#// mentions of abuse

[artytaeh]

⋯ ⋯ ﹒ 🪻 ’

THEODORE NOTT— a popular slytherin, an introvert at heart, despite his reputation as a womanizer. theodore nott, who has a big, terrible communication problem.

with the pure terror of displaying his vulnerable emotions, theodore smokes cigarettes to force his emotions to disappear with the wind; bites his inner lip and cheek until his mouth bleeds, so no tears threaten to make way to his eyes.

when theodore nott cries, he stares blankly into the wall. he doesn't sob— sobbing would make him even weaker, more vulnerable, less capable and definitely useless, in his father's eyes.

silent tears are the epitome of theodore's sadness, because other than that, his sadness, stress and troubled thoughts are never known. hidden by a mask of stoic expressions.

theodore nott is 'stupid' smart. if he wasn't a slytherin at heart and soul, then he'd be a ravenclaw, or at least that's what the professors comment amongst them. theo enjoys reading, and would easily spend his afternoon on a silent, vacant corner of the castle, devouring a book in few hours.

he lies, saying that it's simply because knowledge is a good weapon. he'd be saying the truth, if theodore confesses that he reads this much, because whether be it fiction or not, he can escape his thoughts to fully concentrate on the book's contents.

theodore nott is knowledgeable, theodore nott is a good, straight-A's student. theodore nott is quick-witted; you wouldn't want to banter with him, because usually, he gets the last word with a victorious, cheeky smile— an insufferable cocky grin.

and yet, shamefully, theodore nott has no idea how to verbalize his feelings.

every good liar is like this, he'd argue. in exchange of spilling the most atrocious lies with a straight face and nonchalant tone, theodore finds it awfully hard to tell the truth.

ask him what's wrong— you can do that, sure. now, if theodore will answer you, that's another story. and to give you a genuine answer, if he doesn't snap? then an angel must have fallen down its altar.

then, if he can't verbalize or trust anyone, not even mattheo riddle or lorenzo berkshire on a good day— what does theodore nott do, to deal with his full mind and empty heart?

theodore nott destroys.

he destroys other living beings,

being the first one to join mattheo riddle, with a smile on his face, when his best friend snaps at the smallest hint of disrespect. throwing a (not really) deserved punch at a guy that honestly, if you ask him afterwards, theodore has no idea what he done wrong.

when lorenzo scolds mattheo for starting a fight and reprimands theodore for indulging it, the slytherin simply shrugs. he's "looking out for his bro", he says. that's only partially true, as much as he deeply cares for mattheo.

everytime that he starts fights, like a rabid dog. theodore doesn't really know when he stopped being il dolce ragazzo of his madre. when he became a dog that bites without thinking about barking first. "so much for claiming to be the logical one," — lorenzo muses.

... he destroys himself.

which would explain the concerning amount of muggle, wizarding, flavored, all shaped packs of cigarettes he owns. there isn't a brand that he didn't try, at least once— the more harmful, the better.

smoking until his lungs become as black as his heart, as his dark thoughts. smoking, until he drops dead with his worries. smoking, until theodore nott becomes a better man (something that he doubts he could do, for he was born a broken man— born from a couple that should have never crossed paths with each other).

consequently, damaging his hands. skin that becomes calloused and slightly scarred from the cigarettes. knuckles constantly bruised from throwing punches at gryffindors or smartass ravenclaws.

so, theodore nott starts believing that he's unlovable. that loving him— oh, that would be torture. pure masochism, that he wouldn't wish to anyone, not even the witch he dislikes or rolls his eyes at the most.

and that becomes a creeping fear of his. oh, theodore is terrified, when the thought of becoming like his father plagues his mind.

to think that he'd become such a disgusting man, the man who brought so much pain to his mother, that killed the only person who truly loved him.

what would his mother say, if she saw him like this?

would she be disappointed, would she be ashamed to even spare a look at him? would her beautiful porcelain face become a frown, would she walk away, disgusted?

theodore consumes three more cigarettes on that thought alone.

... or would she give him a sympathetic look, gazing at her dolce, bravo ragazzo with those tender eyes of hers? a shade of blue, that theodore was fortunate to inherit.

a sad smile makes its way to his lips. because now, even for a brief moment, theo is himself again. he's not a casanova slytherin, he's not the heir of the nott family. theodore nott is simply his mother's little boy, her teddy.

in honor of such bittersweet memories, theo drops his cigarette and doesn't smoke for at least 24 hours.

theo doesn't know how to deal with comfort. genuinely tender touches, fingertips grazing his skin so lightly—

of desperately needy, lustful touches, he knows. he knows them very well, from all those times he slept with a woman, ruined her for the next guy. from the times a slytherin girl gripped and pushed his hair, needing, begging more of his mouth on her; or when a gryffindor got so lost in pleasure that she left the mark of her nails on his back; when a hufflepuff senior clenched her fingers on his torso, hips and shoulders, screaming for more, deeper, faster; that time when he found a way to shut up a particularly insufferable ravenclaw know-it-all by fucking her mouth, and when he felt the back of her throat on him, the stubborn ravenclaw gripped, scratched, protested on his thighs.

of harsh, violent, cruel, merciless touches, everytime mr. nott decided that a disgusted, disappointed gaze wasn't enough to educate his son. when those knuckles adorned with rings curled into a fist, and theodore was beaten into discipline. all those times he started fights and consequently got hit by a punch or two, even though theodore is a good fighter, and makes sure that even if he does get hurt, the receiving end is in worse state, in need of more than one night in the infirmary wing.

⋯ ⋯ ﹒ 🪻 ’

... but comforting, meant to soothe, gentle touches? oh, theo is terrified of them. rather than flinching away from a fist coming his way, theo looks like a scaredy cat when fingers come to brush his hair away from his face, with all the love and care of the world.

theo doesn't know those touches. to be fair, yes, he was acquainted with them once— but that was long, long ago, when his mother was still alive. a life ago, really, because sometimes theodore wonders if he's the same teddy he once was, under the protective but loving arms of his mother.

so at first, theo panics when you hug him, when you physically bring comfort to his broken, damaged heart.

but then?

then, after he gets a taste of how heavenly it feels to be held by someone he loves? then, theo embraces the fact that he is indeed a touch starved man. then, theo completely and shamelessly melts under your touch, relaxing in your embrace, wishing to never leave this safe haven.

( or maybe he does. a little voice on the back of his mind, menacingly suggesting that this safe haven, this loving harbor — you — might disappear into thin air by the cruel hands of his father, the same he did with his mother. )

but before his truly prodigious brain dares to overthink once again— your hands comb through his hair, brushing it back along with his worries, massaging the scalp and melting the troubled thoughts away. that's when theo closes his eyes. that's when he, finally, is in peace with himself.

and if you'd ask him; this is when and where theodore nott is the happiest. this is when theodore nott is teddy again.

౨ৎ these voices in my head screaming ♡ ͡

run now. i'm praying that they're human . . .

🪻 ; . . . fandom : harry potter.

— my motivation? it's a silly little drabble, about my favorite slytherin. theodore nott deserves love, seriously.

the headers + gifs + icons aren't mine. credits to the respective creators ! 🌷

[imagine-darksiders]

What about Bowser and a preggo Y/N?

And why not? :)

-------------

The frantic sound of bare feet slapping unevenly against cold, unforgiving stone echoes down the hallway, ricocheting off vast, stone walls and filling the oppressive space with the proof of your desperate escape.

Lungs heaving like a set of billows, you try your utmost to focus on throwing one foot out after the other, clutching an arm around your swollen belly in some futile attempt not to jostle the tiny life growing inside it as you lurch down the corridor, wincing with every step that pounds against the unforgiving stone beneath you.

Somewhere far behind you, from deep in the bowels of the fortress, a thunderous roar erupts into the air, chasing you through the doors that you've left swinging in your wake.

“Well-!” you puff down to your stomach, skidding around a corner and lumbering towards another set of enormous, stone doors, “He had to wake up eventually.”

It's always dark in the Dark Lands, but the lack of activity in the twisting hallways clues you in to the fact that night must have settled its oppressive weight over the fortress, driving the koopas into their barracks to sleep. You'd only dared to make this escape attempt hours after their ruler laid his mighty head down and filled his chambers with the deep, rolling melody of snores.

If anything, you're lucky to have made it this far, to have put as much distance between you and your captor as you already have. Any extra progress you happen to make is a delightful bonus.

It's been six months since you fell pregnant, and only two months since you fell into Bowser's clutches. Two gruelling months of trying to hide the growing bump beneath your dress's garlands. Two months of escape attempts, all in an effort to get your unborn child to safety.

So long as you're still here, in the fortress of a tyrant, the baby is at risk.

Every day since Bowser discovered he'd kidnapped a pregnant human, your future offspring seems less of a blessing, and more of a ticking time bomb sitting in your womb.

They're leverage. They could be used to control you.

Worse still, they could be hurt.

At the back of your mind, a tiny voice reasons that your assumptions are, so far, utterly baseless.

Much as it stings your pride to admit, you've yet to come under any fire from Bowser, or his troops. You're only too aware that a Koopa of his stature and power could have done far, far worse than keeping you here under lock and key, although that in itself you consider an unforgivable crime.

In actual fact, if you were questioned under extreme duress, you'd have to concede that he's been infuriatingly accommodating.

Even more-so after he finally used his brain and realised that you weren't diving into the bathroom to throw up because he'd accidentally over-salted the food he brought you.

If you thought he was overbearing in the first few months of your imprisonment, you were rather unpleasantly surprised to discover that he could get a whole Hell of a lot worse...

Another roar shakes through the corridor, powerful enough to nearly send you toppling off your wobbly feet.

There are plenty of aspects about Bowser you find troubling.

His unchecked jealousy, for one. The possessive rigidity of his hand when it's wrapped around your wrist. How he stubbornly deafens himself to reason and rationality if it doesn't align with his interests.

But there's one trait of his – one terrible, frightening quirk in his biology – that turns your blood to ice inside your veins.

It's that very same 'trait' that's chasing you through the endless hallways right now.

You know you only have yourself to blame for drawing him out.

The giant.

You can picture it now – Bowser, laying in his chambers, curling his tail up to feel the open air around it where once a warm body had been occupying the space. He must have woken to find you missing from his side and promptly lost what little self-control he's already barely in possession of.

You can feel it in the way his fortress quivers around all you now, as if afraid of its own king.

You once thought Bowser was already indomitable enough.

Then you saw what he can become, what he's capable of turning into with enough rage and power feeding into his temper.

You've only seen it happen once, and ever since, you've hoped with everything in you that you wouldn't have to see it again.

Yet judging from the way the ground trembles and the distant 'boom,' 'boom,' 'boom,' of gargantuan footfalls begins to draw closer, you fear you're about to be reacquainted with the very worst aspect of the self-proclaimed King.

Swollen and sore, your feet hum with a heat that stings at their soles, but still you push forwards, gasping for air that wheezes too thinly down your throat.

You won't let him take back to that room.

To that... that detestable nest.

Not least because you can't bear the humiliation of being fawned over and coddled for another, mortifying moment. At least before your pregnancy was discovered, you'd been allowed the illusion of privacy.

You were given your own bed chambers, you could sleep without the weight of the King pressing in around you like a slumbering mountain. You had time to yourself, albeit a few hours, where you could be free from Bowser's boundless attention.

Then, of course, you were found out.

Within less than a moment, what little 'freedom' you were so graciously handed was swiftly snatched back.

Much to your chagrin, you were removed from your chambers and moved straight into the King's.

Instead of simply watching you eat your meals with that daft, adoring grin stretching his muzzle, he started trying to feed you directly. The silver spoon always looked so ridiculous clutched inside his meaty paw. His big, bottom lip would stick out childishly each and every time you snatched the spoon away from him and reminded him sternly that you're only pregnant. You're not bed-ridden.

A sudden agony swells in your stomach and ripples outwards along each of your limbs, slowing you to a gasping stagger, as if your tiny passenger has finally decided to take umbrage with your lumbering motions.

Before you can gather your wits, you've opened your mouth to release a strangled cry, nearly falling to your knees as you grasp feverishly at your belly, eyes bulging in their sockets.

So much for only pregnant....

“Ah! Shit!” you hiss, stumbling sideways until your shoulder collides painfully with the solid, stone wall, “Gah! Not now, kid.”

Raking a hand through sweat-soaked hair, you grind your teeth together and suck a hissing breath between them, glancing at the path ahead of you through eyes bleary with tears. Another towering, stone doorway stands in front of you, large and tempting. You have no idea where it leads – this wing of the castle looks much the same as all the others that Bowser has tried to show off to you – but right now, forwards is vastly preferable to backwards.

You have to press on, even though your ligaments feel as though they're being wrung out, even though there's an invisible knife twisting into your side and causing you to cringe away from nothing, you have to press on.

Escape could be just behind those doors. Today could finally be the day you slip between Bowser's grasping fingers and reclaim your freedom. You might see Captain Skip again. She's loyal, oftentimes to a fault. Surely, surely she's still waiting for you on the docks, hatching a daring rescue attempt, knowing her. It's been one of the most troubling prospects that's been on your mind daily since you were first brought here. To see Skip storm Bowser's fortress with her crew, only to be cut down by the vastly superior numbers of troops heaving behind the walls.

You sailed across vast oceans with Skip and those sailors for months. They're good people with families and loved ones waiting for them back home in your kingdom. You'd do anything to spare them the fate that awaits them here, even if it means invoking the wrath of Bowser's colossal counterpart by trying to rescue yourself.

Setting your jaw with a firm click of teeth, you suck down a long, noisy breath and shove yourself upright off the wall, tottering forwards on your bare feet until you reach the door and slap both hands around the silver handles.

Shoulders braced, you move to throw the doors open, itching to get to the other side-

'WHAM!'

There isn't enough self-restraint in the galaxy that could have kept the startled yelp from bursting out of your lungs. It's only half a second later that you cram a hand over your mouth, as if to stuff the sound back down into your chest.

A swell of scorching, hot air surges into the corridor behind you, reaching you in a terrifying matter of moments and rolling up the nape of your neck.

Blind terror seizes your mobility away from you and turns your feet to lead.

You're still facing the doorway just in front of you, stiff-necked and bug-eyed with one hand clenched like a vice around the handle.

In the reflection, a huge, distorted shape raises its fiery head.

Eyes of fire blaze hot within the cool, silver surface.

There's something inherently paralysing in realising you've been spotted in a game of cat and mouse. The tendency to freeze overwhelms you for a few, crucial seconds where you hold perfectly still, bound by some misguided hope that if you don't make a single movement, the predator behind you won't be enticed to pounce.

You don't remember how to turn and glance over your shoulder.

You know what you'll find if you look.

You can tell by the crashing bellow that rattles your brain in its skull that you're out of luck. There are no more barriers between you and your pursuer.

You'd moved too slowly...

The walls around you begin to tremble in a fast, unsteady rhythm, and the ground shudders under your feet, and still it feels as though someone has turned a key in your spine and locked your limbs up tight.

It's only when the shadow of two, pointed horns fall upon you and rise up the door that you finally burst back to life.

Kicking off the lead weights attached to your ankles, you tug at the doors with all your might. But stone is heavy. Heavier than you recall it being.

The doors scrape open an inch, and all of a sudden, they're struck from above with the force of a siege machine as something huge smashes into them, wrenching the handles from your grasp and scaring a strangled yelp out of you.

An all-too familiar burst of moist air breathes down on top of your head, billowing at the collar of your night dress. The moisture from his maw mingles horribly with the sweat that trickles down the nape of your neck.

Swallowing thickly, you crank your neck back, shoulders hunched, until your eyes land upon the underside of a mammoth wrist, bedecked with a silver-spiked cuff that glints menacingly when its points catch the meagre firelight.

Attached to the wrist is a mountainous hand sporting its own set of spikes. These however, occur naturally, in the form of terrible, foot-long claws that perch at the end of each monstrous fingers.

The palm is taller than you are, and sits flat against the stone doors, sealing them shut so firmly that nothing short of an explosion could ever hope to shift them.

God... You can hear his almighty chest heaving raggedly overhead, immense lungs straining to pull in enough air just to refill them with the oxygen he'd expelled hunting you down.

It's him.

Bowser, but not quite. A King who has temporarily sacrificed what little brain he possesses to give himself a massive boost in brawn.

Despite the inherent need to see the rest of the titan bearing down upon you, you lower your gaze to the stone at your feet with a shaky gulp and keep your belly pressed to the door, curling around it with a fierce if futile determination to put yourself between the baby and any supposed danger.

As if a few, scant inches of flesh could stop the King from getting to them if he really wanted to.

Regardless of your noble effort, a second paw – equally as enormous as the first - presses urgently in around you. Claws almost as long as your forearm slip around the front of your night dress, and with a hesitant care that you don't notice in the ensuing fright, you're carefully eased away from the doors.

You immediately have something to say about it. Predominantly, “No!”

It hurts you to twist and wriggle, but you do your best to try and slip free of Bowser's fingers as they curl around your legs and torso, leaving your arms and fists free to beat uselessly at the hard, yellow scales on his knuckles. “Put me down!” you spit in an attempt to sound authoritative, dismayed that the crack in your tone belies the effort.

As if in direct defiance of your demand, the monstrous King instead lifts you up, twisting his wrist around slowly until, at last, that massive, protruding maw rises into view, swallowing up the world around you with its inescapable vastness.

Slitted nostrils flare open and closed at a frantic pace, pulling and pushing at the sweat-dampened hair sticking to your forehead. Without skipping a beat, the colossus leans his snout in close, bringing you towards the sharp fangs that are too large for his maw to contain.

Your eyes flash down to them as your pulse starts to thrash, pounding at the walls of your skin as if your heart itself is trying to abandon ship.

Bowser has never hurt you...

Yet...

It's that 'yet' that flashes through your mind as you squeeze your eyes shut, bracing yourself for whatever punishment the King has in mind.

Surely he's reached the end of his fuse. Surely you've pushed him over the edge and he's at last going to do something so terrible, so painful, all of your misgivings about him will be justified.

So it comes as a shock, when, rather than fire or jaws, you feel the soft press of a snout against your cheek.

You'd open your mouth to gasp if it wasn't also being smothered by Bowser's thick, rubbery lips as he begins to snuffle gently at your face, checking you over for injuries...

Secured in his surrounding grasp, you toss your head from left to right, trying to escape the hot breaths that are puffed out across your head. All for nought, of course. The gigantic snout follows your thrashing and gives your mouth a last, hearty sniff before suddenly, it starts to move south, skirting over your dress until it comes to hover just inches from your belly.

Gradually, like the bars of a cage being pried open, his fingers uncurl from around you and he tips his hand back so that you're left laying prone in the cup of his palm, your feet just barely dangling over the edge.

All at once, you freeze in place, your eyes growing wide and round with alarm.

No... Not them... They don't deserve to be punished because of what you did... You'll take his retribution on any other part of your body, if he'll just leave your stomach alone.

“Please,” you whisper, wetting your lips and swallowing the acrid taste that builds on your tongue at the abhorrence of begging for the creature's mercy, “Please, it's not their fault I ran... Don't... don't hurt them... Leave them alone.”

The King gives you a look, then, his blood-red eyes flicking up from your belly to squint at you, brows of flaming orange drawing into a tight, indignant line across his forehead.

Bowser doesn't talk when he's like this. His vocal chords have been twisted and stretched out of shape, but he doesn't need the ability to speak to convey his message quite clearly through expression alone.

He's offended. That you'd... what? Assume that your kidnapper might be angry enough to make you face retribution for your actions?

Hell, the baby's own father had smacked you dizzy for the mere crime of expressing a desire to keep the poor child. How can Bowser think it's such a stretch for you to expect similar from the Koopa who took you captive?

Like a mountain pressing in all around you, the titanic turtle closes the distance between your belly and his nose. For a second, the alarm of having a jaw so large approach the baby growing inside you is enough to make you raise your hands as if you could stop him.

And then, with a care that doesn't at all befit his size, Bowser slowly lets his eyes slip shut and presses the very tip of his snout against your swollen stomach, the barest pressure, the lightest touch, warm and soft and entirely careful, as if he's aware of his size and knows the damage he could inadvertently cause with the tiniest effort.

“What... are you doing?” Bewildered, you can only gape up at him as you blink away the stinging behind your eyelids, brows twisted up in disbelief.

This behaviour is... a far cry from what you'd been expecting after he caught up to you.

Ever so gradually, the King's chest stops rising and falling like a maddened bull, his bristling mane flattens down slightly and his shoulders slump in apparent relief.

After a long, silent minute spent in apprehensive silence, the Koopa peels his eyes open once more and draws his snout away from your stomach, tipping it up towards your face instead.

Heavy-lidded, his smouldering gaze holds yours for some time whilst you busy yourself trying to catch your breath, hating how much your body is already relishing the rest.

Regarding you from beneath softly drooping eyelids, the King's dark pupils expand like apertures. A rumble works its way up from the bottom of his throat, more of an exhale than a growl, though the deepness of it still sends quakes through the hand you're laying in, sending tingles all the way up your spine.

You nearly jump out of your skin when the Koopa abruptly raises his head.

“Ah!” you exclaim as the world around you rocks, though it soon occurs to you that he's only turning himself around, a motion so mundane to him, but for you, standing a fraction of his height, even the most casual movement is dialled up to eleven.

Throwing out an arm, you reflexively grab onto one of his scaly knuckles, though he's quick to curl each finger securely over you once more, tucking you securely against his chest as he plods down the corridor, rattling the overhead chandeliers with every, thunderous step he takes.

It isn't long before the giant Koopa is shouldering his way through the doors to his bed chambers again, which have since become less of a chamber and more of a nest.

The silly sod must have gathered every pillow and blanket available in the castle and plopped them all down in an ever-growing pile at the centre of the room.

The worrier in you can't help but wonder if his koopa troops have been left with enough for themselves.

The King's bed, meanwhile, has been shoved to one side of the room, apparently no longer serving as an adequate resting place. You can barely see a solitary inch of floor beneath the mass of cushions and soft beddings.

This is where you've been holed up for the last month or so...

You can't rightly say you know how long it's been, you stopped counting the days after a while...

Your leaden heart sinks down to the soles of your feet at the sight of the colourful mess welcoming you back once more.

“Home sweet home,” you grumble under your breath.

Issuing a heavy grunt, Bowser drops like a lead weight onto one forearm, watching carefully as he lowers you down into the centre of the cushions and blankets, sliding you from his palm with a wordless croon of contentment.

“You're impossible,” you complain wearily, throwing a sharp glare at the King as he pulls back and settles onto his hands, a pleased smile stretching his maw, “Just how long are you going to keep me in this stupid den?”

Predictably, Bowser ignores your grousing and instead lowers his snout to nose at some of the pillows, those that have escaped from the greater mass, nudging them back towards the centre, towards you.

Rolling your eyes, you lay a hand over your belly and sink back into the nest, feeling the mountain of cushions shift and dip under Bowser's weight as he snuffles around the pile, ensuring everything has been placed back in its correct position before he finally pulls away, sitting back on his bulky haunches and giving the nest a last once-over, bobbing his head in a decisive nod that bounces his mane like fire in the wind.

Lifting his gaze to you once more, he chuffs at you, something firm and strict, drawing his thick, bushy brows into a frown.

The message is clear.

'Stay.'

“Like I'd be able to get anywhere now, even if I wanted to,” you mutter bitterly, wincing at a pulse of pain that rocks across the balls of your feet.

For a moment, Bower's furrowed brow eases apart and he casts a look at your face. You know he must see the weariness settled there, judging by the gentle croon he emits in your direction, bulbous shoulders slumping despondently.

Several times, he casts glances between you and the door, enough that you furrow your brow, tilting your head to one side and wondering why he isn't trying to lay down on the nest himself to resume your previous arrangement, the one you'd had before making a break for it.

At last, with a final groan in your direction, Bowser heaves himself about and hurries from the room as best as his cumbersome legs will allow, his spikes scraping chunks from the door's stony frame as he leaves.

At once, you perk up, staring agog at the open entrance.

Your heart nearly leaps in anticipation, astounded that the possessive koopa has just presented you with yet another chance to escape so soon after he's plopped you back inside his nest.

Thumping footfalls trail swiftly away from the room, but never quite disappear entirely.

You're torn, anxious. Your feet hurt something fierce.

“It can't be that easy...” you murmur aloud.

… Can it?

Despite your body's feverous protest, you grit your teeth and start to drag yourself laboriously across the cushions, inch by tantalising inch, never once taking your eyes off the door.

Sadly, you've only just managed to scoot yourself a few yards closer to the edge by the time you feel those pulse-jumping footfalls approaching the room again.

Heaving a defeated sigh, you slump into the blankets around you, your heart sinking like lead in water as Bowser comes thudding back into his chambers. This time, however, when he pokes his enormous head through the doors, you're taken aback by the sight of a very sleepy Junior dangling by the tail from his father's gentle maw.

“Oh, come now,” you cluck before you can catch your tongue, “You didn't need to wake the poor boy. He's had a busy day.”

Bowser merely huffs while the koopaling in question rubs at his eyes with a pudgy, little fist as his father slowly bends down and deposits him into the bed of pillows at your side.

“You tried to run again, didn't you?” he yawns, wriggling around on his belly until his head is pointed in your direction, blinking lazily up at you.

Grumbling under your breath, you retort, “And nothing to show for it but aching feet...”

“Maybe you outght'a stop runnin' then,” he suggests, and had it been anyone else, you might not have been able to bite back a sharp reply. As it is, Junior... Well. He's not a bad kid. You wouldn't be stuck here in his father's fortress if it weren't for him, of course, but you can't bear grudges against children, especially not those who are the product of their upbringing. You can't imagine Bowser has ever taught him that kidnapping is inherently wrong, after all. It took you many, many years to shake the 'lessons' your own father had tried to instil in you. By that time, you were older and wiser than Junior is now.

In time, he'll learn... You hope.

Before you can offer up a protest, the youngster grabs a fistful of your silk skirts and tugs himself towards you, dropping his round, yellow chin in your lap with a huff.

The bitter expression on your face contrasts the gentle hand you lay upon Junior's head, idly rubbing at the scales between his stubby horns.

“Still,” you add, softer, “At least I got some exercise at last, hmm?”

A soft whuff of air ruffles against your leg, all the response Junior provides before he promptly buries his face into your dress and devolves into an exhausted, clingy lump of koopa.

“Tired?” you hum.

There's a long pause before he huffs out a muffled reply. “No.”

Bowser must have plucked him out of a very good sleep. And, you suppose, it is the middle of the night... You'd have to be heartless to try and remove the boy now...

An almighty presence rumbles at your back, and the bed of pillows shifts as Bowser lowers himself onto his belly, curling his neck and head around to your right whilst his tail coils to your left, enclosing you in a semicircle of living, breathing scales.

Like the flip of a switch, the softer expression you reserve for his son hardens to something stern and unamused as you toss a withering glare up at the giant.

He's peering back at you through heavy-lidded eyes, and to your dismay, his nose is scooting closer and closer over the pillows, pausing every few seconds as if you'll conveniently forget to notice what he's up to. With Junior still settled in your lap, you can't rightly move away.

“Well,” you sigh, blinking over the expanse of the King's snout to meet his gaze, “I suppose you must be very pleased with yourself.”

As is typical when he's like this, the Koopa doesn't reply with words.

Instead, he softly bridges the gap between you both by pressing his doughy nose into your side, forcing you to raise your arm to grant him better access lest it become trapped against your body. Appeased, Bowser lets out a contented rumble, rustling the cushions and blankets underneath you.

Pulling a face, you mutter, “You're lucky your son is here to stop me from moving.”

You can't be certain, but you think you hear the quietest snicker emerge from the koopaling in your lap.

Then again, it could have been nothing but a snore...

[fanfic-obsessed]

What the Fuck

You know, I have a fair amount of fondness for what could be considered light Qui Gon bashing, specifically in regards to how he raised Obi Wan. I wonder if any of you could tell?

Along those lines I there is one thing I would love to see more of, the High Council finding out much later (like during the war) the fucked up parts of Obi Wan’s padawanship and just go ‘Fucking what????’

Walk with me for a minute while I explain.  Also this is an idea for an AU not a commentary on any version of cannon. 

There are 10,000 Jedi. There is no way the high council could be personally involved with all the Master Padawan pairs, not to mention not all the members during the war were members during Obi Wan’s padawan years. So let’s start from the premise that Qui Gon and Obi Wan had the normal amount of interaction with the High Council. This is, in part, because Qui Gonn lies like a rug for 90% of their reports to make them seem more normal than they actually are.  In this idea Qui Gon is also at the very least emotionally abusive and negligent, if not physically abusive as well. 

So Obi Wan grows up thinking things like being left in a Cantina for hours to days is normal Master behavior, or being lost in bet (both intentionally to track slave rings and just because Qui Gon did not have as good a hand as he thought), or being forced to meditate his needs away for days, or the crippling anxiety that Qui Gon seemed to be deliberately instilling. Obi Wan never does these things to Anakin (Obi Wan just cannot convince himself to treat Anakin like he was treated, but justifies it to himself that it was Anakin that had the strange padawanship because he came to the temple too late and too early. He does always feel like a failure of a master for the fact that he couldn’t do it). 

Obi Wan doesn’t talk about it to other Jedi, not out of shame but out of the sincerely held belief that every padawan faced the same, that it would be boring. He does not tell Anakin because he does not want to make his padawan feel bad for having a strange padawanship. 

He does give utterly horrifying answers to any member of his battalion that asks questions about his padawan years, which convinces the clones that the Jedi need to be protected from themselves. 

Now that we have set the stage, I think this should be a random time not tied to any specific set of events. Though It should be after Ahsoka is assigned to Anakin. I kind of want the Anakin, Ahsoka, Cody, and Rex present and the High council has just finished the “official” part of the meeting and have moved on to just chatting, or maybe it was before the meeting began, or perhaps it is semi official where they are talking about some Cantina in the mid rim that would be useful in an upcoming mission. 

No matter the situation, Obi Wan fondly reminisces about the proprietor and how they (the proprietor, Obi Wan, and some of the regulars) had worked out a routine where Obi Wan would lure in slavers that targeted children, the proprietor would drug them, and the regulars would steal their things and figure out where they were hiding their ‘product’.  

There is confused silence among the jedi present. At last Plo Koon goes ‘I know you looked young without your beard, but I didn’t think it was that young’ while thinking that he didn’t think he was that bad at judging near human ages. 

Obi Wan laughs and goes ‘oh no. This was when I was 14, though I was a bit stunted after Melida/Daan so I did look a few years younger. Master Jinn like to gamble around the corner whenever we had a mission that brought us to that sector, he got great tips about the slave trade. I was so scrawny that I didn’t make good collateral until I was 16. So he left me in the Cantina’. He then muses thoughtfully that the proprietor always seemed angry with Master Jinn when he came to collect Obi Wan. 

There is a dead silence, every member of the High Council turned silently to stare at Obi Wan.  Anakin, Ahsoka, and Rex looked shocked while Cody looked somewhere between tired and murderous as he stared into the middle distance. 

Mace Windu asks, in that careful voice people can get where they don’t want to let on that there is anything wrong, about being ‘collateral’.  Obi Wan answers with the air of someone who thinks their experience is much more universal than it was. Every answer he gives sparks more questions and more horror. 

Obi Wan is so used to thinking that his experiences were universal that it takes him several questions before he realizes that no one is reacting as if this is normal. He starts to try and explain, you know trying to make himself understood because he assumes that it is merely him explaining badly, which makes it worse and worse and worse. Anakin is near hyperventilating because that was decidedly not how his own padawan years went (and explained some of the strange questions that Cody has asked him over the years).

Cody is actually relieved that the Jedi appear to be just as horrified over all of this as the clones were.

Each and every other member of the High council is both internally and visibly going ‘Fucken what????!!!’ with every statement Obi Wan is making.  Just a straight up hour of being horrified, not evening being able to move onto guilt that no one noticed because of the sheer volume of WTF.  Interspersed with various Jedi thinking about how they are going to need to get a therapist that is dedicated specifically to Obi Wan, and probably a therapist for the therapist to avoid burnout.

[amberjazmyn]

you're only human, just a little human 💔🥹

pairing : max verstappen x fem!reader

summary : five times max verstappen should have cried but didn't + the one time he finally cries 

warnings :  j*s verstappen (yes, that's a warning), a swear word, dodgy english to dutch translations, self-depricating jokes, trauma, tears (that should have happened, sad and happy) sad max verstappen (once again, that's a warning because sad max is devastating) and a little bit of christina perri because her songs (especially human) are devastating

a/n : when i first wrote this for wattpad, i was lowkey shocked that i remembered it as well as i did when i first thought about it! don't forget to like and reblog. comment too and don't be shy to request a fic!

one

the first time that max verstappen should have cried but didn't was when he had to first leave his younger sister and mum after the divorce of his parents. sophie and jos verstappen's marriage, whilst at the beginning seemed great, that 'greatness' would not last for much longer. at the ages of eight and six, max and victoria verstappen would be separated from one another. victoria staying with their mum and max with their dad as max's possible career as a formula 1 driver was something that was becoming stronger each passing day. and it was devastating having to move away from his mum and sister, little max wasn't sure why little victoria couldn't just, come with them so then max and victoria could be together with both of their parents rather than have one kid with one parent. in all honesty, it felt a little anti-climactic that jos verstappen felt like the best idea after the divorce was to split up his children however, of course, max nor victoria were able to try and stop it otherwise the likelihood of jos getting violent was very clear. and, obviously, being ages eight and six, that was not something that the two little verstappens wanted. seeing their dad get violent was never fun and it was scary. 

at first, max did cry when he was younger. of course he did, every baby cries, that's how we are brought into the world as humans, female or male, doesn't matter. crying is the only way babies and toddlers that aren't able to talk are able to let people know how they feel. whether they are hungry, tired or unwell, they will cry to let their parents or just someone know that they need help. however, because of the way jos brought up his two kids, max specifically, he would tell max to suck it up and to stop crying as the eight year old got older. telling him that crying was weak and he couldn't stand the thought of having a weepy, weak son who he'd one day want to have as a famous formula 1 driver. because in jos' eyes, formula 1 drivers weren't 'babies'. in jos' eyes, formula 1 drivers were robots that were incapable of expressing true human emotions. and that was what he was 'training' little max verstappen to become. a robot that was incapable of expressing how he really felt because the fear of his father's wrath was more powerful and something he never ever wanted to cross in his lifetime. and, in a moment where he should have joined his mum and little sister victoria in their tears, he didn't. all because of how terrified he was of his father catching him crying. even though any other parent (sophie included) would have completely understood little max's tears, jos was not that nice or understanding nor was he capable of having those human emotions himself. 

sophie felt tears well in her eyes as she picked up little six-year-old victoria verstappen. it was a devastating thought that she would be letting her eight-year-old son, her first born, away with her ex-husband, the father of her two kids. that and the fact that she truly had no idea when she would have the opportunity to see her little boy again. especially since jos had been quite adamant of him taking max with him and leaving victoria with sophie. 

victoria was devastated. she was hysterical as she watched the way her dad and older brother max could just easily up and leave her and sophie so easily. just so max could improve his karting skills. however, whilst she was only six, it was obvious that this was something to do with her dad. whilst max loved driving and cars because he was a little boy, what else did little boys enjoy as kids other than cars, especially ones that were really fast like race cars? however, this was clearly more of a thing for jos and his bruised ego from when he didn't do well enough as a formula 1 racer himself. and because victoria was so devastated, she hoped that if she cried just enough, it would get a reaction from max, making him feel guilty and decide to come back to be with her and their mum rather than leave with jos. 

however, it was clear to sophie as well as max that victoria's loud wails and hysterics were bringing jos to a boiling point. of course, if the man even tried to think about advancing at victoria over her emotions, he would wish he didn't. especially in front of not just one of their kids but both of them. 

warning her ex-husband, sophie stood firm, holding her hysterical daughter tightly, "denk er niet eens over na, jos!" sophie narrowed her eyes as jos bit his lip in a moment of tense anger, victoria still hysterical and max in the middle of it all unsure on how to react don't even think about it, jos!

"denk eens na, sofie? wat dacht je dat ik ging doen?" jos grumbled, folding his arms over one another, max trying to calm his little sister down, sophie noticing and smiling at her eldest lovingly think about what sophie? what did you think i was going to do?

"je weet verdomd goed wat je ging doen en dat laat ik je niet toe!" sophie's voice started to match her ex-husbands and it was clear the distress for little victoria was too much you bloody well know what you were about to do and i will not let you!

victoria was so hysterical and distressed to the point where the only person who could now calm her down was older brother max. so, sophie let the little girl wriggle out of her grip and rush over to her older brother who took the both of them back inside their house whilst their parents continued arguing and raising their voices at one another. 

comforting his little sister with sweet nothings in dutch and little coos, max knew why his parents were arguing. and it wasn't just because it was clear that jos was ready to strike victoria because she was crying and he couldn't handle his own crying kids. only knowing how to resort to physical abuse because maybe that was the way he was treated as a child when he cried? honestly, max had no idea why jos always got so aggravated when he or victoria would cry. they were arguing because jos wanted to separate their family and take max away from sophie and victoria. whilst it was obvious that maybe, max could get very good in karting and then later on be a formula 1 driver but, was it necessary to take him away entirely from his mum and younger sister? 

both max and victoria jumped in fear from hearing their mum scream at their father, "omdat je niet weet hoe je met je eigen emoties moet omgaan, als je twee kinderen emoties tonen, is het eerste dat in je opkomt om ze daarvoor te straffen en dat is niet oké! daarom huilt max niet meer, omdat hij zo bang is dat je hem pijn doet dat hij fysiek niet meer in staat is om te huilen terwijl hij zou moeten zijn, omdat hij gedwongen wordt zijn moeder en zusje te verlaten!" it was obvious from hearing that from his mother that jos was going to hit or discipline victoria physically for crying if sophie hadn't stopped him and that scared max because you don't know how to handle your own emotions, when your two children show emotions, the first thing that comes into your mind is to punish them for it and that is not okay! that's why max doesn't cry anymore, because he's so afraid of you hurting him that he's physically unable to cry now when he should be because he's being forced to leave his mum and baby sister!

now max really didn't want to leave with his dad without his mum and sister. this outburst of his father about to strike his little sister for crying over having to say goodbye to her older brother was terrifying. it was the first time that max had really seen it from a different perspective as it was always him getting the verbal implications of jos' wrath if he ever dared slip up and accidentally show emotion in front of his father, not the other way around. this was the first time he had ever come close to seeing what happened to him happen to victoria. and he was only eight years old at eight, you shouldn't have to worry about being struck because he was expressing his emotions and crying. no one should be physically disciplined for crying when they have no other way to properly express how they're feeling. 

expecting to hear their father to yell, defend or even do anything in response to their mum's claim, they were shocked to hear nothing come out of their father's mouth. slowly coming back to the front door, they noticed how their father just stood opened mouth, like a fish, in shock at what their mother had just yelled at him. his silence proved to sophie more so than it proved it to max and victoria that she was correct in her claims. that because he didn't know how to handle his own emotions, whenever someone else, his kids specifically, showed emotions he wasn't familiar with, he would get violent. 

eventually, sophie and jos stopped arguing and eventually, it was time for jos and max to leave sophie and victoria. and it was as awful as anyone could have imagined it. except, max didn't cry but he really should have. 

"doei victoria, ik zie je snel schat. gedraag je voor mama, ik hou van je!" max whispered, hugging his little sister for one last time in the safety of his mother's arms, victoria being picked up again by her so jos couldn't get to her if he did have another violent outburst bye victoria, i'll see you soon darling. behave for mummy, i love you!

whilst she wasn't entirely hysterical anymore, victoria still had tears streaming down her little chubby cheeks as she farewelled her older brother, "doei maxie! ik beloof dat ik me voor mama zal gedragen, ik hou ook van jou!" victoria sniffled, her arms reaching forward to be held by her older brother as max stepped further away bye maxie! i promise i'll behave for mummy, love you too!

even though it didn't seem obvious to those people looking in, max was devastated to say goodbye to his mum and little sister. it was moments like this that max wished he could cry without the fear of his own father getting physical with him all because he was expressing his upset in the only way he knew how to. he wanted to cry but he couldn't. 

two

the second time that max verstappen should have cried but didn't was after he had lost a race, achieving second overall. jos was seething with rage because he knew that his son could win. he had made sure his son could win every single race however, the time he didn't win but came second, of course wasn't accetable in jos' eyes. for jos, if max didn't win, it wasn't good enough. max coming second was so terrifying for the kid that he kept his helmet on for four hours because he was so scared of getting hurt by his dad because he didn't win the race. that being the reason he should have cried, not that he achieved second place. whilst he did love to win, if he came second, it was still a good result in max's eyes however he was always scared for his dad's reactions if he got anything less than first place.  

and because of that, max knew if he kept his helmet on for as long as he possibly could then his dad couldn't do anything to hurt him. so, that's what he did. getting out of his kart, he kept his helmet on which would turn into four hours as he held his breath and made his way over to his father that was seething with rage. only hoping that jos wouldn't forcefully remove the helmet himself and then hit him. however, he didn't. he waited and waited for the impact or the removing of his helmet that never came. and he felt himself questioning why he wasn't being punished...maybe jos wasn't mad at max like he usually was when things didn't go max's way? 

"...pa? ben je niet boos?" max's little scared voice echoed out of his racer helmet as jos sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose trying to contain his distain dad? you're not mad?

"niet op jou, maar ja, ik ben boos!" jos sighed, he was mad but he thought about what sophie told me the day he and max left - knowing that if sophie were to find out he had hit max again, she'd be pissed however it was quite hard for jos to restrain himself not at you but yes i am mad!

and hearing his dad say that felt strange, max felt like he could breathe. and because he thought jos wasn't going to hurt him, he thought he was safe in taking off his helmet those four hours later...

...what a mistake that was for little max verstappen. even though jos 'promised' his little boy that whilst he was mad but not at him, that still didn't stop him from reacting physically. grabbing max by the arm, jos pulls him into a more private area of the race track. and he reacts to his son's 'loss' in the same way that he always did when the little boy got lower than first. he'd kick and he'd hit the little dutch boy that was just trying his best at the life that his father couldn't do well enough but made sure his son did it for him. 

max should have cried after getting brutually slapped and kicked by his father jos verstappen but he didn't. he couldn't cry because this was something that was no longer new to the growing boy. this was his normal when he came second or what his dad labelled as 'the first to lose'. 

three

the third time that max verstappen should have cried but didn't was when he won his very first podium with red bull. it was everything he had been working towards as a kid with all the abuse he had suffered at the hands of his own father that this podium wasn't because of his father, it was in spite of his father. whilst his father was there to celebrate his son's very first win, so was a very special person in max's life. this person, this lovely lady, was someone who took care of max. she would challenge jos whenever he tried to be too tough to max. when jos pushed max too hard, she would give the older dutchman a piece of her mind. but never when max was around because she knew that whilst max knew somewhere in his mind, most likely his subconscious, that jos, his own father, caused him so much pain and trauma, he still loved his dad. somewhere inside of max verstappen was a little boy that just wanted to be loved, appreciated and taken care of by his father. not made into this emotionless, robotic mad max that was only good for winning races and rage-quitting when he got anything less. all because of his rotten, abusive father jos. 

making eye contact with his girlfriend, max's smile was the largest it had ever been. he was so excited to have finally won a race with his formula 1 team. of course, if he were to start crying, it would have been absolutely acceptable and perfectly fine because it was his maiden win and usually, for any racer in formula 1 achieving their first win, it would be very emotional. and they'd cry, get a little misty-eyed, even have an emotional radio exchange in their car during the last lap to their radio engineer when it was obvious they were going to win. and in all honesty, f1 fans wanted to see their fave 'mad max' get emotional because to them, it seemed as though max was just an emotionless piece of shit. which he wasn't. but, for max verstappen, he didn't cry when he won his first grand prix with red bull. 

jumping off the podium, max's girlfriend was right there waiting, "gefeliciteerd maxie! Ik ben zo trots op je, mijn liefste!" she congratulated in dutch, her arms wrapping around her champagne-covered boyfriend as he wrapped his own arms tightly around his girlfriend's congratulations maxie! i'm so proud of you my darling!

smiling at her, max couldn't hide his excitement, "dank u schat! ik houd ook van jou!" max sighed in content as he finally relaxed, the exhaustion of the long race finally catching up to the eighteen-year-old thank you baby! i love you too!

the couple then celebrated together on their own. running away from christian and jos, mostly jos then christian but, christian did want to have a chat to the two young adults but alas, they were too fast for red bull's team principle. so, christian just gave up and let the two young adults run off together since the race was finished, max had won and they weren't going to do harm to anyone else for being in love. whilst y.n cried joyus tears that her boyfriend was finally a formula 1 winner but also the youngest ever formula 1 winner, max couldn't. of course he was happy, he was overjoyed that he had finally achieved part of his dream in formula 1 however, he just couldn't produce the same tears of joy that his girlfriend could. all because of the way he was raised by his father to believe that he wasn't allowed to cry because if he cried, he'd get hurt and max didn't want to be at the wrath of his father hurting him again. for it's happened to him too many times so for a third time, max does not cry. 

four

the fourth time that max verstappen should have cried but didn't was when y.n spoke up against jos and defended max with him standing behind y.n. it was summer break and the two of them had just returned from a sweet week off in southern italy before jos forced them to return back to monaco so max could get back into training mode for the next season of formula 1. 

max and his girlfriend, y.n, had met just shortly after max joined formula 1 back in 2015 when he was sixteen turning seventeen. y.n was also sixteen and the reason why the two teenagers met was because y.n's father was a known sponsor of red bull. and they met because her father wanted to speak to max because he had seen just how well of a racer that max was and wanted to let him know that when he was ready, that maybe he could get in contact with the team principal at red bull racing. and a year later, at seventeen, max verstappen was the youngest racer to join formula 1. and, at eighteen, max was the youngest racer to win a grand prix, surpassing sebastian vettel at eighteen years and two hundred & twenty eight days. and from the very beginning of meeting max and his family, it was very obvious how much jos influenced his son. it was very obvious that jos was the captain of the ship even though his son was getting to the age of being able to make his own decisions, jos still overlooked a lot of stuff. 

and as soon as y.n and jos verstappen made eye contact with another, it was obvious that jos disliked her from the getgo. the poor girl doing nothing wrong except introducing herself and her dad to the father and son. obviously, it was clear that jos' childish antics and unwanted and unneeded aggression was embarrassing max and the poor kid had to apologise for his father's over the top borderline abusive behaviour. all because a girl, who was the daughter of a red bull sponsor, was introducing herself and her father to the two of them. especially when it's remembered that it was a sponsor of the one f1 team that max had always dreamt of racing for in formula 1. especially because he didn't want his dad to ruin his dream that never started as his dream at the beginning but the dream of his father for his lackluster ability to be an f1 driver. 

finally, y.n's dad and jos left the two teenagers alone and that was when max apologised personally. then, after that, the two kids basically fell in love and have dated ever since then. and still, jos hates the fact that his son's attention is purely not just on formula 1 anymore even though he has proved time and time again that he is still a capable and talented driver even with a girlfriend. 

the build up to y.n standing up to jos had really started after max's first podium win and it just started brewing from then onwards. jos tried all he could to get his son's attention away from his girlfriend. it was clear that jos was bothered by the fact that max no longer paid all of his attention to his father now that y.n was in his life. and because of that, jos would try every single thing to get max's attention away from his girlfriend. it felt like jos was jealous that max was in a happy relationship and it was kind of gross and icky. 

she really wanted to confront jos that day, after max's first win but, max asked her not to. at first y.n thought her boyfriend had five heads but, max then told her that the best revenge at this moment was just for them to ignore jos. jos being ignored was what he hated the most. giving him a reaction was what he loved. so, having not just y.n but his son as well ignore him after a race was the one thing that jos hated the most. especially after max had such a good race with him winning for the first time. so, they watched from far away as jos raged at christian, who was also ignoring him, that he was being ignored by his own son because of his son's girlfriend. the two of them giggling as the rest of the grid joined them and also giggled at a full on adult, the father of the newest f1 winner, rage quitting because he was being ignored by him because of his atrocious behaviour. 

however, this time, after a race, that wasn't actually a good result for max because of a crash that had him be hit with a DNF, y.n could tell that jos was getting ready to get his son into a quiet corner to yell abuse at him. but this time, y.n got there before he did, stepping in front of max before jos could even think about grabbing his arm. this time, y.n made sure that jos knew just how she really felt about him. however, because she was still learning dutch, she said what she had to say in english because she knew that was another thing that bothered jos. when she wouldn't speak in dutch to him because he found it disrespectful. completely ignoring the fact that it wasn't for the lack of trying but because she was still learning. and, if you're australian, learning another language like dutch is not an easy language to learn when you already have such a strong australian english language. because, shocker, y.n and her father are australian but have since lived in monaco. and, for the first time, max didn't stop his girlfriend from speaking up against his father. he was just exhausted and he was just glad that this time, someone else could take the brunt of his father's abuse and arrogance. even though he wished he didn't have to be his girlfriend, he secretly couldn't wait to hear her rip a new one into his father. 

when people would try to do it when he was younger, stand up against jos, max was terrified that not only would he get hurt but so would the person going against jos. so, he would always tell people that everything was fine and that jos was just angry but he'd calm down soon. but jos never would and that would cause max to be impacted by his own father's anger afterwards. but this time, ever since y.n joined the picture and started dating max, she started to make digs at jos. of course, at first they started small but the longer they've gone on, the bigger they've become and now, this was the last straw for y.n. she was appalled at the way max was being treated by his own father. as though max was a little robot made to just be a top of the world formula 1 driver that doesn't have permission to fall in love, laugh, cry or be happy. it was as though jos didn't have children to love them but to make them into what he couldn't be. as though he was living vicariously through max because when jos was an f1 driver, he wasn't champion nor was he a winner. he was above average in comparison to max. 

and in all honesty, from the moment y.n made eye contact with jos, she knew she'd do everything in her power to change the way jos manipulated and destroyed max, making him into the 'emotionless' driver he was. she hated that she couldn't support her boyfriend when he got mad because it bordered the same anger as his father and that was scary. something that max wasn't even aware of because to that poor young man, his father's anger that stews inside him when something goes wrong, seems normal when it isn't. so, she knew she had to do something to stop jos verstappen and this was the time she could do it. just before it was clear that jos was about to hit his own son for getting a DNF not because of his son's own fault but because of a different driver that clearly wasn't paying attention. 

"...don't you even think about it, jos!" y.n stepped in front of max without a moment of hesitation as jos began his walk toward his son and son's girlfriend

obviously, this had thrown jos off, making him more agitated, "what, y.n? don't even think about doing what?" jos seethed, arms crossed over as y.n rolled her eyes as she laughed 

"you know what i'm talking about, jos. we know why you've stormed right up to your adult son after he DNF'd in a race so you can yell at him for being a failure for something that wasn't even his fault but you won't admit that will you? because you never admit the abuse and trauma you put this poor young man through all because you wanted him to be everything you weren't as a formula 1 driver!" y.n seethed out the same way, jos now even more pissed, if he was a cartoon, his face would be red and he'd have steam coming out of his ears 

for a couple of seconds, jos' mouth opened and closed like a fish before he felt like what he had to say next was of value, "what a liar you are, y.n! this is why i don't want you dating my son but he just won't let you go and i can't understand why! you are rude, you refuse to learn dutch, you--" 

"--i'm sorry but, before you continue your own abusive tyrant on me, lemme just pause your side of the argument real quick, jos..." y.n trailed off as jos bit his tongue and gulped although the look on his face didn't change - max just watching from behind of his girlfriend, jos not even realising that max wasn't saying anything to stop this as of yet 

"...you're saying i'm a liar, that i'm rude and that i'm refusing to learn dutch? well, last time i checked, i'm not the one that's rude, that falls on to you, i'm not a liar, another thing that falls on to you and, whilst to you it might not look as though i'm learning dutch, i am. however you just don't like the fact that max is in a happy, healthy relationship with someone that actually loves and takes care of him. so, anytime you hate yourself or feel insecure that you don't have a happy and healthy relationship, you go to your eighteen year old son because he has the things you didn't have in life. you didn't have wins within formula 1, you had a failed marriage because you weren't a great dad to your two children who grew up to be terrified of you because of the way you physically, verbally and emotionally traumatised them with your choice of 'parenting' and because of wanting to produce a robot which is max. you wanted your own little emotionless robot that mimics the life that you had dreamt for yourself growing up. but when you failed to have that life that you so dreamt of having, you had children, thank god you had a son before a daughter, right? thank god your first born was a son so you could make him into this little machine that doesn't know how to control his emotions when things don't go his way because his own fucking father doesn't know how to control his emotions when things don't go his way. do you know how fucking terrifying it is to comfort max after a failed race like today? he gets so mad that i think he's going to lash out at me in the same way you used to and still lash out at him when he comes second in a race and you'd hit him for not getting first because according to you 'second is the first to lose so therefore it isn't good enough'..." y.n paused but it was clear she wasn't going to stop so jos didn't say anything and just reluctantly listened

"...i'm glad that max doesn't have the same anger and impulses as you do because if max really had turned out just like you and he had hit me in a rage because he crashed and didn't finish the race...oh, you best believe i would be going straight to you and asking you why your eighteen year old son is using violence instead of using his words to commnunicate why he's so angered about the loss of a race. sometimes...you know...sometimes i just wish to see max cry his eyes out over a loss instead of becoming angry resulting in him kicking the wheels of his car. i just long for the day that max finally opens up and is vulnerable enough to cry in front of me because the fear he has to cry because of you telling him but victoria as well when they were children that crying was weak is heartbreaking...okay, fine, i get it, not everyone knows how to react to someone when they're crying but that doesn't mean it's acceptable to hit and kick them because they are upset...." y.n breathes, once again, not yet finished with her tirade but it was clear that jos was ready to argue as well so, y.n opened it up to him and included him in it 

"...okay, health lesson jos, when babies are born, when humans are born, what is the first thing that they do that is the first sign of life?" y.n asks as jos gives her an annoyed look, shrugged his shoulders and rolled his eyes as he didn't answer - the moment he had been given the floor to be included, he stood back and didn't involve himself, typical

"well, since you clearly don't know the answer to a very simple question, humans cry. the first thing they do that signifies that a baby is alive is they cry. if they don't cry, that's seen as something that isn't right and may suggest that the baby was born still and isn't able to be revived or many other reasons. so, when you were born, you cried, sophie cried when she came into the world, i cried when i came into the world. when victoria came into the world, she cried. but most importantly, when max was born, he cried and he possibly cried a lot because he had no other way to communicate with his mum and dad for the longest time. the only way he could get help when he needed it was to cry for his mum and dad. and because this was your first child, okay sure, you weren't sure exactly what the fuck you were doing half the time, same with my parents as i was also their first born, they had no clue what they were doing majority of the time. but that didn't mean they'd neglect me when i'd cry for their help when i needed them the most. then victoria was born, she cried too, max was a little bit older and he still cried when he couldn't fully express what he needed even though he could probably speak a little bit but not enough to actually fully let you know what he needed. and the second two crying kids entered your house, that's when you just exploded, right? that was when you decided that anytime one of your kids cried, specifically if it was max, you were going to hit and kick them and demean him. you couldn't handle seeing a crying child because, i'm guessing that when you were a little boy yourself and you were crying out for your own daddy, possibly mummy as well, you were kicked and striked and talked down to because 'boys aren't meant to cry' 'crying is weak'. well, do you know what i fucking think mr verstappen? i think you're a coward and i think you're the weak one. and i think the reason why max is such a great and talented f1 racer isn't because of you but it's to spite you for the way you treated him...."

"...sure, he doesn't know how to speak up for himself in front of you just yet but, i promise, that day will come. and when that day comes, you'll truly realise just how badly you fucked up as a parent, as a dad! cause sure, you're max's father but you're not his dad. dad's don't abuse their children, they step up and they care for their child and they make sure they get everything in this world within reason. dad's don't scare their kids from feeling emotions just because they can't understand them themselves. sure, i'm sure when i cried as a kid it absolutely annoyed the shit out of my parents, especially when they wanted to sleep but do you know what they did? what my dad did? my dad was the one that got out of bed and responded to my cries majority of the time so my mum could get the sleep she deserved because i'll tell you know, i was not an easy baby because of how sick i was as a kid, i was always being watched by doctors and nurses and always going in and out of hospitals. and it wasn't until i was eight that i stopped needing to see the doctor once every month. when i was crying, no matter if i was a baby or i was ten years old and crying because i was getting bullied at school, my dad comforted me, he loved me and he told me that everything was going to be okay and that nothing in this world could harm me again. but what do you do? you do the utter opposite, you neglect the emotions of your little boy for a little while but then the cries get louder and louder until you can no longer ignore them. so you decide to go over to your little boy and, thinking he's going to be getting a hug, a kiss and his tears wiped away, he smiles and reaches his hands up to reach for his dad. but what do you do? you hit and kick him and you yell at him for crying because that was the only way he was able to express the complex emotions he was feeling. you would do that so many times whenever max cried that it got to the point that max just stopped crying all because he was so afraid of you hurting him and yelling at him. but do you know what the real, most heart-wrenching moment about this whole thing is, jos? max doesn't really care all too much about the trophies anymore, sure, it's great but do you know what he craves the most out of anything in this world? the love from his dad and that's the one thing he cannot get because you only care about the trophies and the wins and the money and the fame that his name brings you. all he wants from his father is to be loved, jos. why is it so hard to just be a loving, caring father that doesn't punish his son for having emotions and trying his very best? why don't you understand that he's just a human being trying his fucking best?" finally, y.n had finished her tyrant against jos and it seemed as though jos had nothing to say to her even though she was out of breath and in tears and he still didn't have any empathy or remorse 

there was a minute of silence where no one said anything, nobody moved and it was as though the room went into stop mode. jos couldn't find anything to say in defence of the argument and, of course, y.n didn't find that too surprising because he never did. which was never good for the older man because that just meant what everyone was saying when they spoke up against jos was that it was true. and other times, jos would just leave the room in a rage to then go find someone else who'd listen to his whining and rage quits. however, most of the times, he'd just be ignored when those rage quits and whiny rants would occur because why do you want to listen to a middle-aged man whine and rage quit because he was challenged due to his awful behaviour? and, like usual, jos did storm out of the red bull garage which made y.n snicker. because it was typical, jos couldn't have a regular conversation with anyone without him having to storm out and sulk because he just wasn't mentally able to deal with anyone telling the truth about him to his face. 

after that whole argument that had y.n in tears, she expected to turn around and see max crying or at least a little bit teary eyed but, she didn't. he was just stone-faced and not knowing how he was supposed to react to the situation that just happened in front of him. and that just made you cry more because even without jos around him, max felt like he still couldn't express his emotions. sitting on his lap, y.n held him tight as they consoled each other after the terrible race that just was whilst jos continued to whine to those who wouldn't listen to him. 

five

the fifth time that max doesn't cry but should have, was the closest that he had come to crying since he was a little boy. by this point, he had now been with red bull for a few years, he and y.n were in a wonderful place in their relationship, he was in a wonderful place with red bull and he had just found out his younger sister victoria was pregnant with her and her partner's first baby. it was amazing news, of course it was, he knew just how much victoria wanted to have kids so she could give her own kids the life that she couldn't have because of her parents divorcing and having to live so far away from her older brother and dad. but, it was the way victoria had told him that had him show more emotion that y.n had ever seen from him. it was a sweet moment, victoria and her partner were visiting max and y.n in monaco during a two week break between grand prixs since victoria never wanted to have to tell such important news like a first-time pregnancy over the phone, she decided that she and her partner would make a little trip out of it. and max and y.n were their last dot point on their agenda but the most important part of their entire trip to monaco. not that max or y.n knew it at the time but, it would become obvious after they were told the news. 

y.n and max were relaxing on their couch in their monaco apartment, waiting for victoria and her partner when the door bell rung. meaning that they had finally arrived, excited, max jumped off from the couch, y.n following shortly after and skipped to the door. letting the wife and husband into the apartment, y.n and max led them back to the couch and put the tv on so they could have some light entertainment on in the background. 

however, it was clear that victoria and her partner hadn't come for no reason other than just wanting to hang out so, y.n started off the conversation, her dutch almost fluent at this point, "hey vic en harry leuk jullie te zien, wat brengt jullie op bezoek?" y.n asks with a little giggle as victoria and her partner smile at her and max hey vic and harry good to see you, what brings you to visit?

giggling, victoria spoke first, trying her hardest to not give away the surprise straight away as her partner looks at her, y.n and max looking at them, "oh, je weet wel y.n, we wilden het alleen bezoeken vóór de volgende grand prix van maxie," victoria smiled, trying not to seem suspicious but it was clear that something was shifting in the air as max lifts his eyebrow in confusion oh, you know y.n, we just wanted to visit before maxie's next grand prix

"weet je het zeker? het voelt alsof jullie ons allebei iets belangrijks moeten vertellen..." y.n giggled nervously as she placed her hand on max's thigh as victoria and her partner realised they really weren't good at keeping secrets are you sure? it feels like there's something important that you need to tell us

sensing that victoria and her partner harry were about to tell them something important, both y.n and max latched hands together. anytime something important was being told, it was stressful and, max and y.n needed each other's support. they didn't know what victoria and harry was about to tell them. they didn't know if it was a bad important or if it was a good important. they just knew it was important at this stage. they then noticed victoria reach for something out of her bag. that was when victoria then spoke up. 

"voordat ik je het belangrijke nieuws vertel, wil ik dat jullie allebei je handen naar je uitstrekken en je ogen sluiten..." victoria suddenly asks as max and y.n look at one another and then victoria and harry and then back at themselves before agreeing to victoria's question before i tell you the important news, i want you both to extend your hands and close your eyes

"...ehm, oké, dit is raar. vic, wat laat je ons vasthouden?" max questioned worriedly with his little nervous laugh that y.n always found the sweetest sound in the world as victoria and harry smiled umm, okay, this is weird. vic, what are you making us hold?

victoria then placed the positive pregnancy test into the hands of her older brother and sister-in-law. at first, the couple were slightly grossed out but, they relaxed when it wasn't slimy or feeling icky like they thought it would have. 

however, the more y.n started to feel it, the more she started to realise what it was that victoria had given to them to hold. only because she had taken a couple of them herself when she thought she and max were pregnant during last year's f1 season and my god, was that a terrifying time. not because they don't want kids but because at the time they weren't ready and max was going everywhere and anywhere with formula 1. there was no way that max would be able to be both a dad and an f1 driver at the same time and he really didn't want to end up being the father that jos was to him to his own future children. 

victoria gave the couple a couple more seconds before y.n just outright asked what it was, "is dit een zwangerschapstest, victoria?" she giggled slightly as her eyes were still crinkled shut as max's lip started to shake a little at the mention of his sister possibly being pregnant is this a pregnancy test, victoria?

"open je ogen y.n en max!" victoria giggled, hoping to keep the suspense a little longer until they open their eyes but, it was clear that it was a positive pregnancy test and that at least y.n knew that's what it was open your eyes y.n and max!

and, when they opened their eyes, y.n was right in saying that it was a pregnancy test in their hands. however, for some odd reason, neither max nor y.n had thought that it was a positive pregnancy test. they thought it was maybe a negative pregnancy test and they had come to their brother and sister-in-law for support since it was similar to what they had gone through last year. however, they were not prepared at all for the fact that it was a positive pregnancy test and that victoria was pregnant. 

"oh mijn god, victoria! je bent zwanger! gefeliciteerd jullie twee!" y.n burst out in excitement, her hands moving away from next to max's as she stood up to congratulate victoria and her partner which meant that max had just enough reaction time to stop the test from hitting the ground, placing it on the coffee table oh my god, victoria! you are pregnant! congratulations you two!

pulling her sister-in-law in for a hug, y.n was over the moon that victoria and her partner were pregnant. now that she thought about it, she should have seen it coming that this was the news that they were going to announce since they arrived. it was obvious that they had been wanting to tell them since they were brought into the lounge room. however, max was just shocked and silent on the couch, looking at his younger sister's positive pregnancy test that still rested on the coffee table. he had already envisioned the day that he'd find out victoria was pregnant and he always thought that whilst he'd be so happy and excited for her that he would probably be a lot more emotional about it. like, shed a couple of tears of joy that one, he was becoming an uncle for the first time but that also victoria and harry were becoming first time parents. and it was the first time that the verstappen children could change the generational trauma from their father by being better parents to their future children. 

but, what shocked him more than anything, other than the fact that he wasn't full on crying, that he was teary-eyed. this was the closest he had gotten to crying or having tears in his eyes since he was a little boy before his dad had scared him enough from crying that caused him to shove all of his emotions deep down inside of him. finally though, something inside of him made him get up out of his little daze and congratulate his little sister and partner on their wonderful and exciting news. 

"gefeliciteerd vic, heb je het mama en papa al verteld?" max's voice was soft and scratchy, as though his emotions were beginning to show up again as y.n smiled softly - glad that slowly max was feeling like he could finally stop being so scared to feel things other than anger and joy congratulations vic, have you told mum and dad yet?

"nee, nog niet maxie. we wilden jullie er eerst twee vertellen, voordat iemand anders. Ik denk dat ik het misschien nooit in alle eerlijkheid aan papa zal vertellen," victoria jokes at the end, not telling jos about becoming a grandfather actually sounded kind of funny and deserved as the four of them giggled, max and y.n shaking their heads no, not just yet. we wanted to tell you two first before anyone else. i think i may actually never tell dad in all honesty

"als we daar maar mee weg konden komen! als je niet tegen papa zegt, zit je hoofd op een spies! maar zorg ervoor dat je het papa in een openbare ruimte vertelt, zodat hij niet tegen je kan schreeuwen omdat je het hem niet eerst hebt verteld!" max giggled with a sniffle as y.n sat down next to max on the couch, her hand back on his thigh as they all giggled at max's response if only we could get away with that! not telling dad will have your head on a spike! but, make sure you tell dad in a public space so he can't yell at you for you not telling him first!

the siblings chatted for a little bit longer about victoria's pregnancy and about other things like where the next grand prix was although everyone knew it was monza. victoria also asked y.n about whether or not she and max were going to have children after not being ready this year but giving hints that maybe this year, she and max were ready. then, it started to get later then the verstappen's had realised which meant victoria and harry left just after it had gone to nightfall which meant that finally, max and y.n could go back to speaking in english to one another. whilst y.n was basically fluent now in her dutch speaking, max and y.n did prefer to speak to one another primarily in english. only saying their pet names to one another in dutch because that was just easier. 

that was when y.n also finally got a proper look at her boyfriend's face since she was so focused on victoria after the pregnancy news. that was when she noticed that max's eyes were still a little bit wet. hugging max tighter, y.n smiled and giggled, causing max to hum a noise of confusion. 

"what, liefde love?" max chuckled nervously as y.n smiled at her boyfriend, her hand resting underneath his chin now

"were you getting a little emotional when victoria said she was pregnant, schat?" y.n cooed sweetly as max got a little embarrassed, hiding his face in her shoulder as y.n giggled, ruffling her fingers through his messy hair 

"maybe a little bit but, it was because i'm so happy for her! i mean, i remember when we were younger, victoria would tell me with so much excitement that she'd make sure that she'd find the best guy for her to have children with. all so she could make sure that her future children didn't have the same experiences that me and her went through as kids..." max trailed off as tears continued to wet his eyeline as y.n cooed and smiled - proud that max was on his way to finally being fully vulnerable with her 

"...that's okay baby! i'm so proud of you for feeling safe enough to let your eyes water! sure, you didn't fully cry like you would've thought you would have when you were years younger but, this is progress. i love you, max emilian verstappen!" y.n smiled sweetly as max smiled back, pulling his girlfriend in for a kiss 

whilst he still hadn't properly cried when he should have, max wasn't too far off from it either. 

the one

the one time that max finally does cry is the moment in which he wishes he didn't have to remember or even have to go through. he was in england for the british grand prix at silverstone and you were not even in europe, you were in australia, back home. you were meant to go to the british grand prix with him since jos wasn't going either since he had to take care of his other kids that he had with his new relationship so max had gone on his own for this grand prix and you really wished that you could have gone with him. however, because of your dad's declining health due to terminal cancer, it meant that because at any moment he could pass away, you had to fly on an emergency flight back to australia to the east coast, to queensland whilst max borded a flight to england with the rest of the f1 grid and their partners. you felt like such an awful girlfriend but, max shut those feelings did, as did the rest of the grid and their partners since you left the same time for australia at the same time they left for england. all of them reassuring you that this wasn't going to be max's final grand prix and that there was still more of this season to go and that your dad's declining health was more important. it was devastating because his company was one of the primary sponsors of red bull but, that didn't mean anything anymore. your dad was dying and that was heartbreaking for everyone in the f1 world. not just because he was one of the sponsers but because he was also an f1 driver back in the day that, until this last year, had only been revealed to y.n and max. they had no idea that when he was around the ages of y.n and max that he was also a driver for f1. he never got a world championship but he was a good enough driver that he was miles better than jos verstappen and got a couple of wins and tons of podiums. racing for mclaren back in the day since red bull wasn't an established racing team until 2005 after red bull had bought the remanants of jaguar racing from ford. funny now though that he was the sponser of red bull instead of mclaren, the team he drove for. 

as you would imagine, out of the two fathers, jos and y.f.n, y.f.n absolutely adored max from the getgo. it was obvious that, just like y.n, her father realised that max wasn't an awful person like everyone in the media claimed the poor teenager at the time was. it was clear that it was from the manipulation and brain-washing of his father that he came across as aggressive and rude. jos was the one that was the aggressor and the rude one. max was a sweetheart, not too bothered really about what happened to him in a race because, to him, it was just a fun little thing that he was actually more than just alright in. max was the complete opposite of what his father wanted him to be in terms of manners, kindness and demeanour. and it was clear that when jos didn't get the results out of max that he wanted, max was punished for it. yet, he never cried, he never misbehaved, he just took it on the chin and kept on going. and that devastated y.n's father in the way that he was being treated by the man that was supposed to be his dad, if y.n's dad could even call jos verstappen a dad. it seemed insulting to call jos verstappen a dad when at best, he wasn't a dad but a deadbeat abusive father. so, after max joined red bull racing, y.n, her father and max started hanging out more and the older man started really taking care of max in the way a dad should be taking care of his son. 

it had come to the point where, max would start calling his girlfriend's dad, dad because he felt like his girlfriend's dad was more of a dad than his own father was to him. but that was besides the point, max loved y.n's dad and it broke his heart when he was told the news that he had been diagnosed with cancer. that was the other closest time of max crying. just like he did when victoria had told him she was pregnant with her first child, at hearing that sad news just four days after the joyous news of becoming an uncle, y.n and max were given the devastating news that y.f.n had been diagnosed with cancer. and, max was teary-eyed and in shock, not knowing how else to react. his voice on the verge of what it would sound like if he were to have started crying. 

so, hearing that it was now basically a matter of when not if y.n's dad was going to die, it was absolutely devastating that max had to fly to england whilst y.n had to fly all the way to australia to be with her father in what would end up being his last twenty-four hours. max not even getting to fully say his final goodbye, only being able to call them briefly for a short hour before he was called back to the paddock since he had to get ready for his qualifying race. the worst part of all was that, y.n was the only one in the hospital there with her dad. her mum had died giving birth to y.n's last sibling over sixteen years ago, the youngest sibling being sixteen years old and the rest of y.n's siblings couldn't bear having to watch their last parent die so, they didn't arrive at the hospital until after time of death for their dad had been called. and now, y.n had the worst job to do, she had to fly back to england, knowing she couldn't stomach telling max over the phone cause that was just cruel, she had to leave her four other siblings at the queensland hospital to catch a flight back to england to tell not just max but also christian, the team principal of red bull racing that her father, the main sponsor's founder had died. 

the rule was, if y.n was to fly back from australia before the end of the british grand prix at silverstone, that it wasn't good news. they said that because if she stayed then it meant that her dad was okay and she was just taking care of him. whereas, if y.n was to come back basically straight away from australia, then that meant that it was bad. and that was the hardest thing for her. knowing that she had to walk into that grand prix, at silverstone, maybe right after they've finished their race, probably had an amazing top three on the podium and then getting that all taken out from underneath them due to the loss of y.n's dad. 

by the time y.n finally arrived at the british grand prix at silverstone, the first person she actually saw was christian horner, the team principal of red bull racing. and immediately, he didn't hesitate in stopping what it was he was doing and manuvered over to pull her in for a tight hug. by this point, y.n was no longer crying. she couldn't cry anymore. she was simply out of tears. in all honesty, she was glad she couldn't cry anymore because, she felt as though she had filled that entire airbus a380 in a river of her tears. 

speaking softly, christian soothed the numb grieving girl, "...y.n, i am so sorry darling! what's the plan of action now that you're here? who's the next person you need to tell? max? danny? geri?" christian asked softly, his voice sounding light and airy as y.n gulped before slightly tilting her head to look up at christian 

"umm, i...i think i need to tell max next. he...he said that the next person after you was him...where...where's max?" y.n stammered out, her speech slow and as though she had no joy in her voice anymore like she did just days earlier 

"you want to tell max? okay, we can do that, we can find max. i think he was last seen in the cooldown room with charles and lando, we can totally get him for you..." christian trailed off, going to walk away but y.n stopped him, grabbing his hand and pulling him back 

"...wait...before you do that, what place did max come in the race? i couldn't watch it since it made dad upset that he wouldn't be able to watch his last grand prix because he was so far gone from all the drugs..." y.n's voice went quiet at the end as christian felt his heart break as he bit his lip but told her 

"...he...he won, darling. charles got p2 and lando p3. it was an amazing race, truly, if he wasn't so far gone, i'm sure your dad would have loved to have seen this grand prix as his last one. the three of them were neck and neck the whole way..." christian whispered as he then tilted his head towards the cooldown room, nodding her head, y.n let her hand slip out of christian's as he went to grab max 

max, lando and charles were relaxing in the cooldown room, lando and max on the floor whilst charles was in the seat that just happened to max's, the first seat he had fallen onto as they entered the room. making eye contact with christian, it seemed as though max could sense something was wrong since he wasn't saying anything. and because max wasn't either, charles and lando looked at each other, silently saying as though maybe, they should speak up. 

"...hey, christian, is everything alright?" lando spoke up as christian kind of jumped out of the little reverie he was in as he gulped and nodded his head

"uhh, yeah, yeah, sorry lando! yeah, i'm fine but, is it okay if i just steal max for a little bit?" christian tried to hide the urgency and worry in his voice but he couldn't and because of that, lando and charles were also alarmed 

max standing up from the floor straight away, he gulped and walked over to christian as charles then spoke up, "wait, christian, can we go with you?" charles asked as christian had no time to think before his head just involuntarily nodded up and down - allowing lando and charles to come with him and max, wherever it was that they were going 

they walked in silence for a bit, it seemed as though they were in a hurry to get back to the red bull garage. which was pretty easy for the three racers to realise but what they didn't expect to see in the red bull garage was y.n. seeing y.n in the red bull garage meant only one thing now and that meant that y.f.n was dead and that she had to now deliver that news to max. it wasn't just something known within the red bull team, this was told to all of the f1 grid so, it wasn't just max that was now feeling shocked and upset. lando and charles were silent and in shock, in less of a way that y.n was but, they were shocked. they couldn't believe it, they genuinely thought that y.n's dad was going to be fine. he was still so young, he wasn't even in his early 50s just yet. just a little bit older than christian horner himself. but, here they were, looking in the red bull garage to see y.n sitting right there, in a seat with gianpiero lambiase, max's race engineer sitting right next to her as she rocked back and forth ever so slightly, absolutely numb for any and all pain that consumed her on the flight from australia to london.

finally though, after staying silent for twenty-odd minutes and the rest of the f1 grid being called into the red bull garage, all of them shocked and saddned to see that it was indeed, y.n, and not someone else like they had all hoped and prayed it was. this was not how they wanted to end such a successful british grand prix at silverstone, having to be told that they had lost a family member from red bull racing. but, it was what had to be done and it was y.n that had to give out that news even though she hated it. 

"...umm, i know this isn't what we wanted to see tonight, especially at the end of such a fantastic british grand prix here at silverstone but, it is with the devastation in my heart that my dad, y.f.n has passed away. it was peaceful and it wasn't painful, he just slipped away as max, charles and lando made their way to the end of the race in first, second and third place. i know i don't need to tell any of you guys this but, whilst my dad was a sponsor and lover of red bull racing and mr christian horner, he was also a driver for mclaren and he adored every single one of you guys. he loved that you guys had welcomed me with the most open of open arms when i was first introduced to you guys. whether that was back when i was sixteen and meeting who would be the golden boy of red bull, max, or when i met the rest of you guys when some of you were rookies. he really appreciated just how much you guys cared about me, treating me all the same and with so much care as though i was a fragile little doll which, to be honest, i was until i got older. but, yeah, now that i'm here and not in australia, it's unfortunate that i now no longer have either parent. and because i'll also have to plan the funeral, it'll be held in australia but, i'll make sure to plan it during a break between races because i don't think i can imagine having my dad's funeral and you lot not being there..." as y.n's voice came to a halt, sniffles could be heard, as could very heavy breaths and it became obvious as to who it was 

because the other drivers that were crying like lando, carlos, charles and daniel were silent, they weren't hysterical, unless you actually stared at them for longer than a second, it wasn't easy to tell that they were even crying, let alone teary-eyed. so the only other person that y.n knew would get upset about this more than anything would try to run away because no one else had seen him get this emotional before. and, it was of course, max. no one was there when he was told that his sister was pregnant and when he teared up in the same way that no one in the grid was there when he was given the news that y.n's dad had cancer four days later when he had teared up for sadder, devastating reasons. so, no one had really seen any other emotion from max other than anger and joy. it was as though those were max's only emotions since no one else had seen max get emotional or teary-eyed in the same way y.n had those two times when max was finally starting to feel comfortable about being vulnerable. but now, he could feel his vulnerability fully start to crumble and he knew he had to get away before anyone else other than y.n could see it. it was scary crying in front of people, doesn't matter if your name is max verstappen or y.n y.l.n. it's confronting having people watch you cry and the one time he finally cries, he's too scared to do it around anyone else other than his girlfriend even though he knew in the back of his mind that his teammates in the grid wouldn't look at him any weirder or judge him for being upset that the man who was more of a dad than his actual father was had died from his terminal cancer. 

so, after getting hugs from almost all of the drivers on the grid and a couple of the other team principals, y.n had made her way out of the red bull garage and back into the cooldown room where no one else was. not even cameras since the grand prix was now fully finished, because that was where she knew max had run off to so he could finally break down and cry in peace for the first time since he was a little boy. 

and she could tell it was max that was crying in the cooldown room even though this was the first time hearing her boyfriend cry, she could tell it was him. the noises he was making were similar to the ones when he would get mad to the point where sometimes his eyes would water and he'd lose his breath. however, this time, it still sounded much different. he was full on sobbing and it was loud and it was punching y.n in her gut. it was painful hearing her boyfriend cry knowing she couldn't get there any quicker. 

finally though, her legs had found their way into the cooldown room and what she saw broke her heart more than the cries she was hearing. if that was even possible because hearing max cry was what y.n thought could be the most gut-wrenching thing on earth. what she saw was her boyfriend on the floor, his back near the wall next to charles' seat from when they were first in there after the race behind him. his knees were hiked up all the way to his chest with his face being cradled into his knees as he leaned away from the wall behind him but into the chair, one arm tightly holding his knees whilst the other one was limp against the floor. 

gently sitting in front of her distraught boyfriend, y.n pulled him in for a hug and straight away, max's resolve unravelled. his limbs unravelling as he wrapped his arms around his girlfriend as he just sobbed. not caring that if his dad was watching this that he'd call him weak and a baby. he was in pain and it was devastating that he wasn't able to fly to australia with his girlfriend to be there for her when she needed him. he had never really experienced a loss like this growing up other than maybe grandparents but, they were the grandparents that died when max was basically a one-year-old so he had no memory of them. which meant that his girlfriend's dad was truly max's first experience with grief and bereavement. now he understood the painful feeling in his chest that people talked about when they had a full body cry in the same way that he was doing right now. he now understood how charles felt like since this wasn't the first time that charles had lost someone he knew. charles and the leclerc's were great friends with y.n's family, but especially her dad. so now max knew what charles felt like when the younger driver lost his own dad herve and godfather jules. it was a pain he never wanted his own worst enemy to go through. 

"...schat...i'm sorry baby, i know it's not the news you wanted to hear but, he was gone just as you guys finished the race. it didn't hurt and he actually called out for you because he could hear your radio transmissions to gp on the tv. he got scared and didn't know where you were until i reminded him that you were in england for the british grand prix and that's what he was hearing on the tv..." y.n whispered, hoping it would make max feel better but she should have known that it wouldn't have as max cried more 

"...i...i should have been there with you! why wasn't i there for you at the hospital for your dad's last days? what a terrible boyfriend i am!" max wailed as y.n felt her heart break as she shook her head and held max tighter 

"no baby, please don't say that! you are not a terrible boyfriend! even if you didn't have the grand prix on, i wouldn't have let you come to australia with me! i'm glad you weren't with me for dad's final days, he was glad that you weren't with me for his final days. i know dad was amazing to you, maxie. he truly adored you ever since he first met you all those years back when we were just teenagers. the moment he realised how shitty of a father yours was, he stepped up and took you under his wing. he loved the hell out of you my darling boy! in the same way he adored everyone in this year's f1 grid! and that's why it hurts that little bit more that he's now gone. but, we'll get to farewell him all together and, i'm glad that you'll be with me for that. i love you, okay, schat? and if you ever break down like this ever again, just know that i'm right here and i won't let you go until you are okay again, alright?" y.n was strong in her comfort for max as he nodded his head as finally his tears and wails had subsided 

"i'm sorry for crying all over you..." max whispered, sort of ashamed to apologise even though he always did because of his father, y.n immediately clocked onto it 

"...don't apologise babe, it's okay to cry. you're only human max and, that's what we do, it's what we're built to do. we're built to feel, to love and to grieve and part of all of this includes crying when we need to cry. so, never apologise for being a human..." y.n whispered back as max nodded his head and took a deep breath

wiping away the tears, y.n and max just sat in silence next to each other for a couple more minutes before charles, lando, carlos and the rest of the f1 grid joined the couple in the cooldown room. they were all equally as devastated for max and y.n that they had lost such an amazing man who just happened to be the founder and boss of the main sponsor for red bull racing. 

this was the first time that max finally allowed himself to cry since he was a little boy and it was the first time that he didn't feel weak for showing emotion either. especially when he noticed the other tear-stained faces of his f1 teammates. this was when max realised that just because he's a man, that shouldn't mean that he should be ashamed to cry and to break down because even if his father isn't going to be there to catch him as he falls, y.n and everyone else around him would be there to catch him before he even had the chance to fall. 

fin

okay, that was a bit of a weakling ending but, this took legit the whole day to write so i'm proud of myself for writing this since this isn't one that i hadn't written in a different book and it's nearly 2:30 in the morning as i finish this which isn't something i've done in a while so, i really gotta finish this baby up! i have so many ideas for more 5+1 one-shots but i just need to sift through them in my adhd brain and see which ones i like more cause i'm constantly thinking of new ones and then forgetting the old ones because i was thinking of one the other day and i think i've already forgotten it which is lowkey devastating but, no matter, i'll remember it later lol! 

[a-chaotically-small-lunta]

Hear me out, tinies comforting giants or vice versa BUT the two have never met before.

Maybe a borrower lives in the home of a family where the child is often ignored or yelled at, causing them to hide away in their room most of the time. The borrower can’t do much of anything and simply watches over the years cause they can’t be seen. However they know the kid is a good kid and they get yelled at for such little things. The borrower will watch the child try their best to impress their parents but the parents are always disappointed in them for whatever reason. Maybe the parents thought it wasn’t perfect enough or the kid didn’t do it like how the parents wanted. One day the kid is grounded for the stupidest reason and the borrower who watched everything happen is wondering what they could do. The kid is bawling their eyes out in their room and the borrower feels their heart break and they think “fuck it, they’re a good kid and they need someone” so they sneak over to the bed and climb up, getting close to the kid’s head. The steel their nerves and pat the kid while saying “It’s alright” the child is obviously startled cause who wouldn’t be, and looks at the borrower who seems a bit nervous. The borrower explains that they saw what happened and felt bad for the kid and wanted to comfort them. The kid who perhaps has never been comforted before starts crying again, maybe they scoop the borrower up and hold them close as they cry. The borrower who is shocked just accepts they’ve been scooped and hush the child while telling them that everything will be okay and that they will be there for them. After this encounter, every-time the child is hurt or punished by the parents for doing nothing wrong, the borrower slips out and comforts them. Occasionally coming out to just chat with the kid even if they aren’t grounded. Perhaps the borrower mentally adopts the human child as their own, meanwhile the child is happy to have someone, who they view as a parent, actually care about them.

What about the reverse? Maybe a tiny is crying and trying their best to calm down, but despite their best efforts they aren’t successful. They keep crying until they hear something approach. A giant figure slowly lowers down and softly asks the tiny if they are okay. The tiny, who is shocked that such a large person would even care to ask when everyone else seems to not care, burst into tears and breaks down. They go on about their problems and the giant carefully listens. Eventually the giant either scoops the tiny up to hold them close for comfort or perhaps they gently touch the tiny with their fingers in an awkward hug, while saying comforting words of encouragement. After a while once the tiny has calmed down, the giant starts to leave and let’s the tiny know that “if they ever need a hand again, to come and find them. It shouldn’t be hard with how big they are” the tiny does take up the offer and occasionally goes to the giant and chats with them, a small friendship blooms.

[tallerthantale]

On False Memories

There is another moment around Scarlett's allegations I want to expand on. It does come from bits where Tortoise is doing the pseudo attribution thing, so keep in mind we don't have the exact wording used by Gaiman or his lawyers, we have Tortoise's characterization of what has been said. I am going to go forward on the working assumption that it is a generally accurate representation of what was said to Tortoise.

"Rachel Johnson: Neil Gaiman’s account suggests we should treat Scarlett’s allegations with caution, as they first surfaced when she was hospitalized, he says, for the treatment of a condition that’s associated with false memories. But we know her allegations pre-date her admission to hospital. Scarlett’s medical records also show us that Neil Gaiman’s claim that Scarlett has a serious preexisting medical condition to be false. According to her records, she presented as a genuinely high risk of suicide and was discharged after recovering overnight.

Rachel Johnson: There’s no mention, even in her previous medical history, of any condition like the one Neil Gaiman claimed in his account. The only medication she was on was the sleeping pill Zopiclone."

The things about this series of claims that jump out at me might be a bit different than what other people would be paying attention to, so I want to explain what stands out to me and why. But we are going to need to do a little bit of background first. Getting into this is a big ass can of worms, but I'm going to see if I can do a bit of a cliff notes version.

The underlying issue is that a propensity to develop 'false memories' is a disposition that all humans have. That's just normal brain functioning. It isn't a condition you will find in diagnostic manuals because it is the condition of being a human. It's hard for people to process and accept that knowledge, because everyone hates it. Doesn't make it any less true. Functionally everything you consciously remember is a post hoc reconstruction to suit the needs of your current situation.

Under normal circumstances this does not account for things like spontaneously constructing major sexual assaults into existence. That's not a thing, but not having the memory in the front of your conscious experience for years, and then remembering that you have that memory later when it's triggered is a thing.

For most people, most of the time, the shifts of constructed memories are things like your brain not bothering to pay attention to what color someone's shirt was, and making it up later to have a cohesive memory. It would account for something like a person thinking they said no louder than they did, which shouldn't be relevant anyway. It could account for thinking you stated a boundary very clearly, but when you look at the message later it's actually ambiguous.

Ideally, the needs of the current situation are to remember what actually did happen. Unfortunately memory can be highly vulnerable to suggestion in the name of preserving continuity. This why police will do things like shouting "stop resisting" while beating up someone who isn't resisting. People absolutely will form a memory of the person resisting to make it make sense. Not because they have a specific condition, because that's how brains work. The counter to this is for the general public to understand that it 'makes sense' for the police to engage in that deceptive strategy. Once that is widely known bystanders will be more likely to remember the events for what they were.

In moments of high emotional distress people's minds generally prioritize 'making myself feel better' as the main need of the current situation. What it makes a person feel better to remember is going to be very context dependent. One day it might be what validates seeing themselves as a victim, the next it might make them feel better to frame themselves as in control of the situation by seeing themselves as a villain. Both genuine victims and genuine perpetrators can cycle through both perceptions. Shifting reframing of memory to form a narrative can occur to all sorts of things in all sorts of scenarios. These are examples of what's called cognitive distortions. Learning about how they work does not prevent them from happening. They exist in all people. Yes, even you, yes, even me.

However, if a person's emotional regulation is shit, and / or they are stuck in a childlike mode of emotional development, these mechanisms can be more dramatic and reaching. One of the most common folk psychology (popularly believed psychology misinformation) things I run into is people attributing cognitive distortions solely and specifically to people with Cluster B personality disorders.

I see a lot of people start learning about Cluster B and then very quickly start seeing signs of Cluster B everywhere. I think that is because they are largely learning from people who fixate on 'warning about of the dangers of Cluster B people,' describe Cluster B mostly in terms of cognitive distortions, and then frame those cognitive distortions as more or less 'the thing Cluster B people do.' People who get their information from that sort of content start looking IRL and immediately see them everywhere, but it's because literally everyone has cognitive distortions all the time.

My first impression of the "condition associated with false memories" line was that it looked to me like Gaiman was trying to claim that Scarlett was a narcissist and / or borderline off of a poor understanding of those conditions. If Gaiman thinks false memories are 'the thing Cluster B people do,' Gaiman using that narrative fits with claiming she was hospitalized on suicide risk due to the condition and him associating the condition with false memories.

I didn't see anything in the fake therapist's videos or ramblings that looked like he was in the dark triad fandom, (my name for people with strong folk psychology attitudes about Cluster B personality disorders) but it is certainly possible he is. The book that conspicuously popped up on Neil's... amazon reading list? something like that? a while back was a book about getting out of relationships with narcissists.

The other side of the false memories issue is that certain types of hypnotherapists claim to be able to recover memories of childhood abuse through hypnotism. This is a very bad idea to try to do for multiple reasons. While there is evidence that these hypnotherapies result in a person having more memories after than they did before, those memories are post hoc reconstructions, because that is what all memories are. And those post hoc reconstructions are vulnerable to suggestion, particularly surrounding the needs of the immediate situation and continuity.

If the explicit goal of the therapy is to hypnotize a person into a heightened state of vulnerability to suggestion specifically so that they can remember a specific thing, there is little reason to believe any particular memory 'recovered' by a hypnotherapist has anything to do with reality. What ads another layer to the horrifying is that since there is no neurological difference between a false memory and a real one, a hypnotherapist 'recovering' false memories of trauma will create trauma that is just a real as if those things did actually happen.

Neil's fake therapist and the communities he is connected to might have some overlap with the people who still think hypnotherapists doing traumatic memory recovery is a good idea. it's the flavor of pseudoscience they seem to be running on. It is also possible he is more aware of the dangers of hypnotherapists because he has encountered them and bothered to do a bit of reading.

Since he is not actually a real mental health professional and is in community with pseudoscientists, he could have ended up with an overinflated sense of how common hypnotherapist nonsense is, and he may not realize how much policy and training and best practices go into preventing real mental health professionals that work at hospitals from planting suggested memories.

From his own message to Scarlett, he was wildly reckless as to the risk that he might be planting suggestions himself, (assuming that wasn't the intention) in ways a trained professional would know not to do. While many things about him set off red flags, this point was the biggest, and what made me immediately inclined to prompt a license review, which started the 'he doesn't actually have one' rabbit hole.

"A condition associated with false memories" sounds to me like they are trying to diagnose her with a Cluster B personality disorder. Trying to time the origin of the claims to the hospitalization could be an argument that Scarlett was implanted with false memories of the content of the allegations by irresponsible crisis workers. It looks to me like the reasoning of a person who read a few bits and pieces of real things in isolation and put them together into a dangerously inaccurate mess. Which is the sort of thing that can happen when unqualified people LARP as therapists. Or as Cluster B experts.

If the "condition associated with false memories" claim is referring to Cluster B and tracks back to Wayne and his phone call with Scarlett, that would be very gross on a lot of levels. Wayne is not qualified to do that, you really can't diagnose personality disorders off a single session even if you are qualified, Wayne had a preexisting investment in the situation before talking to Scarlett, Wayne did not have her as a proper client, Wayne would have been passing information about his opinions on Scarlett to a different person after claiming to be speaking in confidence, ect.... I can't say if that's what happened, but if it did happen I would have some choice words to say to him about that. On top of the ones I already have.

There is a conversation between a civil lawyer and a psychologist about a lot of these topics on youtube from when they were looking at the Marylin Manson case. It goes over a lot of the issues around false memories if people want to listen through it. It's a bit over an hour. I have mixed feelings about the lawyer in question, (and you probably don't want to look at the chat) but the psychologist is very qualified and knows what he's talking about.

[static-fucking-mess]

Eddie couldn't help himself. He stared at Billy Hargrove sometimes; the gorgeous curls and wild grin lit something inside of him the first time Eddie had ever laid eyes on him.

Billy's plush lips sucking in the smoke from his Marlboro reds, broad shoulders, tight jeans. Eddie couldn't help himself from focusing on the way Billy's tongue flashed out to wet his lips as the smoke billowed off into the sky from his nose.

Billy washed into Hawkins and Eddie's life like a hurricane from California. His loud car, crashing music, and Eddie knew just from catching sight of him once that he wanted to know everything about him. He imagined if he got close enough he'd still be able to smell the ocean air on his sun kissed skin. He wanted to know his favorite bands, his thoughts on media, God he'd even sit through talking about cars if it meant Billy would look his way. (It wasn't like he wasn't interested, just that his own knowledge was limited to keeping his dinosaur of a van alive, and he didn't want to sound like an idiot. Not in front of Billy.)

Everything about Billy attracted Eddie to him. Eddie Munson had never considered himself shy. Fuck, he was a bit awkward about social boundaries, but he'd never felt shy before. Then, there were rarely ever new people that came to Hawkins to stay. And Billy made it clear that he had no intention of staying. Hawkins was small, and desperately choking on its shallow gene pool, in Eddie's opinion. Fresh faces were hard to find, especially ones that were willing to look his way, after all.

Billy hadn't been willing. To look his way, that was. He took to the social hierarchy like a wrecking ball, and sent it all asunder. King Steve seemed no more, Tommy and Carol seemed to fight more amongst themselves these days instead of making biting remarks at others. But Billy? He still wouldn't spare a breath on Eddie the Freak Munson.

Eddie had tried once.

He'd been utterly tongue tied in approaching Billy, picking at his sleeve. The two stood awkwardly behind the school dumpsters as they had their smoke break. Eddie's hand shook as he rolled his wrist, searching for the right words that refused to come.

"I really— I mean... fuck— sorry. Hold on. Uh—"

Billy's cool gaze slid up from where his zippo burned the cherry of his cigarette. He flicked his wrist to close his lighter before he tucked it away, utterly unimpressed. Eddie would probably be unimpressed with himself too. But damn; Billy Hargrove was a God carved of marble and gold, blessed by California sun. Eddie was a home grown weed from an Indiana backyard. His brown hair frizzy, unkempt, and his skin a touch oily from his aversion to water. It wasn't like he skipped showers because he wanted to. But in that moment Eddie felt painfully aware that Billy Hargrove was miles out of his league.

"Beat it," Billy grumbled at him. "I'm not in the business of making friends with people like you," he hissed. Those beautiful blues steeling into something dangerous that made Eddie's insides go cold. He swallowed back his words and the shaking in his hand seemed to intensify.

"No um... no that's. Fair. People like me?" Eddie inquired, head tipping a bit. He wanted to know just what part of his stigma had reached Billy first. He'd seen the saints necklace dangling in the open neck of his shirt. "The Satan worshipper? The freak?"

"Queers," Billy snapped. He looked at Eddie like a hostile and wild animal. Like his smiles were more reflective of the animal kingdom than the humanity he bore to charm others. Eddie swallowed dry air and dropped his gaze? Putting his cigarette out under his shoe.

"Right," Eddie affirmed. Billy had seen the way the guy looked at him. It was impossible to miss those dark, chocolate doe eyes when they lingered on him. It tickled the inside of Billy's ribs something real funny when he noticed Eddie in class. Distracted, but gazing his way like he was looking at art in a museum.

Billy was used to people lusting after him. He was hot, and god he knew it. He utilized it more often than he probably should have, but his good genetics in the physical appearance department had gotten him into, and out of a lot of trouble.

But Eddie wasn't lusting.

Eddie looked like he was trying to figure him out. Wondering at him. And that was dangerous. Because Billy had caught himself wondering too. What calloused hands would feel like holding down his wrists, or what those pouty lips would feel like stealing the breath off his. Thoughts like that were what had led to them having to leave California. Thoughts that turned to action, action that had made Neil so angry that he gave Billy two options:

Leave California, and the boy behind...

Or go to Summer Camp.

The two seemed like impossible evils to wrestle with. And in the end, with defeat, Billy had chosen to leave his home behind. It had hurt more that the boy had moved on before Billy could even explain himself. He swore, man or woman, he wouldn't date. Dating just brought trouble. Laying roots was dangerous. Ripping them free just hurt more.

So, he broke Eddie's heart before it had the chance to bloom. So he thought.

Nearing the beginning of November, Billy struggled one morning to light his cigarette. Shivering from the cold, and possibly the pain in his ribs. The pain that curled up through him and reminded him that defiance tasted like iron and copper on every breath in.

"Here—" the voice was steeped in sweet honey. Eddie lit his cigarette for him, and Billy flicked his eyes up to meet with Eddie's.

Eddie cupped his hands around Billy's while the cigarette dangled from his lips. Eddie rubbed his rough hands over Billy's to warm them, breathing softly over them to fight away the frost and chill in the air. Billy stood stiff and still like the early frost had taken root in him.

Eddie gazed up at Billy and offered him a smile, almost sheepish as he stepped away. He mourned the loss of that warmth as soon as it was gone, the fleeting action stirring something inside that Billy didn't want to fan the flames of.

"Shit, sorry," Eddie snorted. "I'm kind of a touchy guy, and uh. Social boundaries? Not my strong suit."

Billy chuffed, shaking his head before he took his cigarette loosely between two fingers and spat onto the pavement.

"Don't fucking touch me, freak," he hissed to Eddie. His frustration sizzling as his voice lacked the ire he wanted it to have. He wanted Eddie to flinch and run. But he didn't. Instead he just... shrugged his shoulders, unbothered, and turned away to smoke his own cigarette.

The next time Billy had contact with Eddie, it happened so quickly that Eddie wasn't even sure what had happened. It was just something small. Something... simple. But as they passed in the hall, Tommy had shoulder checked Eddie hard enough to knock him on his ass, laughing like he was looking for Billy's approval. That was not what happened.

The loud crash against the lockers had startled Eddie back to himself from the position he was in on the floor.

Billy had Tommy pinned to the lockers, speaking to him in a low and deeply venomous tone.

"Hands off, Hagan. The only person who gets to mess with the freak is me," he snarled.

Eddie wondered what that meant, but it felt like stepping closer to a warm fire in a way. He knew Damm well it might be dangerous to get too close. But Eddie didn't mind the way Billy burned. He wanted to be caught in the rush of Billy's storm.

Eddie had held that warm feeling in his chest for a while. It felt like a glow, and it was something that made him look Billy's way, even when he was shoved against lockers, shoulder checked in the hall, or had his books knocked out of his hands. Eddie always caught it.

The smile that wasn't mocking, even when Billy would insult him. It was like he couldn't put the same vitriol in it that he used to.

"Freak" felt more like a term of endearment. "Loser" felt like an invitation to squabble. And God did Eddie take every chance to bicker with Billy Hargrove.

Mid December, their words had turned into a tussle.

"You wouldn't dare—" Eddie had invited, grinning at Billy who had every intention of dumping Eddie into a snowbank.

"I think you need to cool it," Billy had snarked back, looking less than threatening with his red beanie on his head, puff ball and all. It had been Eddie's. The beanie. But Eddie hadn't said a word about the gloves, scarf, and hat he'd left in Billy's locker after he had noticed that the boy from California didn't have clothes suited for Indiana winter.

"Don't do it, Billy," Eddie laughed.

"Do what? I don't have any idea what you're talking about," Billy said back, casual as he took a step closer.

It happened, in a crash of flailing limbs and shrieking laughter. Billy saw Eddie for the first time. He saw the bright smile that was punctuated by dimples on either side. He saw the way Eddie's fuzzy hair fanned out in the snow as he was dumped into the snow bank, and god he couldn't help but notice the way flakes stuck in his eyelashes. His cheeks and ears red from the cold; Eddie wasn't wearing gloves, a hat, or a scarf. He'd given up his warm clothes to keep Billy warm.

And that sure made something inside Billy warmer than the sun in California ever could.

It was mid January when a knock resonated number 12 at the forest hills trailer park. It brought Eddie out of dozing. The alarm clock read an ugly 2am back at him that made him groan.

He pulled himself up and out of bed as the knock grew more irritated and insistent, swiping his hands down over his tired face.

"Jesus christ, I'm coming! Fucking relax!" He bellowed. Eddie shoved his feet into his slippers and shuffled to the front door, ripping it open.

"My hours end at 11 pm on week... nights..." the irritation in Eddie's voice gave way to a shocked whisper as he was met with a ghastly sight before him.

Billy Hargrove standing on his porch, braced against the side of the trailer to stop any swaying. It looked like he had bruises littering half of his face, and Eddie imagined it was worse, with the way the bruises on his neck seemed to bloom down under his jacket.

"Hey," Eddie whispered, unsure if he could say more. When he reached to push a curl out of Billy's face, the man flinched like Eddie was about to put a knife to his throat.

Instead, Eddie put his hand on Billy's shoulder and guided him to come inside.

That was the night that Eddie learned about Neil Hargrove. It was the same night that Eddie slept, curled around Billy. Like he could protect him.

Billy slept with his nose pressed against Eddie's collarbone, sinking into the scents of cinnamon and cigarette smoke. Eddie was warm, and even though he was more elbows and knees than plush and soft... Billy felt like he fit perfectly with his head tucked under Eddie's chin. Eddie gave good hugs. Great hugs even. Enough of them that Billy felt drunk on the scent of cinnamon and the comfort of his best friend's arms.

They continued as best friends for a long time. Until the Tragedy of Starcourt. Nobody called Eddie. Nobody had thought to at first, really. With the chaos and the news of Russians under the mall— not to mention how the last week or two, Billy had been avoiding Eddie like he was a Germ.

"Get the fuck away from me—"

"Stay away from me Munson."

"Get the fuck out of my face."

"I won't warn you again, if you come near me, I'll break your fucking neck."

Eddie had been sulking about it. Well. More than sulking if he was honest. Had he cried on Wayne's shoulder? Absolutely. Did he get a speeding ticket on his way to the hospital once Max had called him? Absolutely.

Eddie stood in the doorway of Billy's hospital room, looking in on his best friend like the universe had put a knife through his heart. Billy looked barely alive. Fragile.

Eddie was one of the very few visitors that Billy got. Neil Hargrove hadn't shown his face once. Max had told him in a hushed voice that he had packed his things to leave town. Billy was a hero for saving so many people in the mall fire, and Neil still hated him. Didn't want a disabled son.

Billy woke up alone. He wasn't surprised to wake up alone, in a hospital room without a single card on his bedside. Sure, he wasn't surprised... but that didn't mean it didn't hurt. It hurt like being cracked open from the inside out. A glaring statement that told Billy Hargrove:

'You don't matter.'

Even alone, Billy stifled his sobs so he wouldn't be noticed.

"Easy tough guy," the gentle voice came from the doorway, making Billy's heart jump up into his throat. Eddie came in with the nurses, who checked his vitals and pain levels. But Billy barely noticed them. He was focused on the boy whose smile cleansed the tar clinging to his heart.

"Thought I told you to piss off," Billy snorted through his tears, managing a shaky smile.

"I've never been good at listening," Eddie replied, rubbing his hand through Billy's bed messy curls. "Can't shake me that easy, sweetheart. I thought you'd have learned that by now. That grouchy bullshit isn't gonna shake me," he assured. Eddie was determined enough to stick out the hurricane.

"You're annoying," Billy spat at him, pushing his hand away.

"And I'm determined to continue to be," Eddie replied as he snatched Billy's wrist. He slid his hand up to lace their fingers and squeeze.

"Give it time," Billy said, seemingly unimpressed. He refused to look at Eddie, only because the idiot was gazing at him like he was someone precious.

"I've got time," Eddie replied, unshaken.

"Jesus, Munson, why don't you just— just leave me the hell alone?! Why are you always," Billy's breath hitched as his voice broke. Eddie was always there. Like a balm to his wounds. He didn't flinch when Neil beat him. He opened the door or answered the call no matter how late. Eddie Munson was a rock in the hurricane, ready to weather his storm.

Billy thought back to the memories El had shown him in that pit of darkness. His mother, the beach, the waves... and the snowy December day that Billy had fallen in love with Eddie Munson.

Billy didn't resist when Eddie placed his hand on his neck, thumbing his jaw like he was brittle. Fragile. And Billy supposed he was.

"God damn," Eddie whispered, smiling at Billy with tender eyes.

"What? Quit fucking looking at me like that. Like— like... pity. Jesus or like I'm gonna break. I don't need your bullshit sympathies, or your God damn coddling, Munson."

Billy felt like a wild animal, backed into the corner of a cage. Snapping and growling at the tender hands that wanted to hold him. Especially if that monster still lurked inside him somewhere. Ready to hurt.

That fear washed away when Eddie kissed Billy's knuckles, something soft. Endearing. Billy could only hitch a sob as his forehead thudded in to rest on Eddie's collarbone. He squeezed Eddie's hand, and to his relief... Eddie squeezed back. It felt a whole lot like someone saying:

'You matter. I love you.'

And for once, Billy wasn't afraid of it being a lie.

[slowandsteddie]

Part One

CW: abuse, Steve’s dad is a dick, pain and blood is talked about, Steve thinks he deserves it, mentions of homophobia, not seeking medical attention right away, trying to tough it out, descriptions of the aftermath of abuse,

To everyone who wanted to be tagged in part two, I want to make it very clear that the vibe is much different here, at least in the first half. The angst wasn’t meant to come in yet, but here we are. 😅. It does have a good ending though!

Tag list: @estrellami-1 @hallucinatedjosten @gaelicblue @starman-jpg @halfadoginatank @messrs-weasley

2141 words.

He sniffled and carefully wiped his face with the sleeve of his hoodie. It was probably too warm for the damned thing. That didn’t stop him from having the hood flipped up and the strings pulled tight with a dumb looking bow resting basically on his lip. The sunglasses hid most of the rest of his face while still allowing him to see.

Steve was trembling pretty badly as he knelt beside the headstone. His hands were so shaky that he splashed more water than he meant to. He let out a deep sigh, resisted the urge to wipe his face again, and started moving dirt and moss away.

Carefully, he slid the old plastic card beneath the debris and pushed it to the edge. It was easier when the mess was a little damp, easiest when he got to the cemetery after a good rain.

Rain wasn’t in the forecast.

His entire body ached.

He let that thought go and gave in to the work he was doing. Once all the gunk was to the side, he pushed the small pile completely off the stone. He flattened it down a little bit where it landed.

Another splash of water.

Steve grabbed the toothbrush out of his back pocket and gently started working the dirt out of the carvings of the name and dates. Small, slow circles were most of it. His shoulders begged him to stop.

He didn’t.

Another splash of water.

He pulled out a bandana, something that he had only recently started bringing with him. He swiped off the headstone carefully. This was as clean as he was going to be able to get it.

Slowly, he pressed two fingers against the first syllable of the name that he had just unearthed again.

“Hello, Minerva Hurts,” his voice cracked. “It’s nice to see you again.”

Steve had never met her, she had passed in 1894, but he had given her name back before.

His entire body was begging him to lay down and take a nap right there. Instead, he pushed himself to wobbly feet and stumbled back toward his car. He could still smell and taste blood, but he’d deal with that in a little while.

More accurately, he would find someone willing to help him take care of it later. When it was higher up his priority list. He started the car before gripping the wheel so tight that his knuckles turned white. Every time he accidentally breathed too deep, he felt a stabbing pain in his rib that he knew wasn’t a good thing. But, he had a promise to keep right now.

He had promised to go to Eddie’s and bake some cookies. He wouldn’t let something stupid, like trying to fight his dad, get in the way of him keeping his word. He let out a sob before starting the drive to the trailer park. Honestly, the older male was probably the only one he would let see him like this.

Having wounds from the Upside Down was a lot different from having his ass handed to him by an older male who was meant to protect him.

When Steve got to where he was going, he pulled his sleeves back down before turning off the car and putting the keys in his pocket. He adjusted his sunglasses before getting out and limping to Eddie’s front door. He knocked and waited, using all of his will power to not lean against the trailer.

About a minute later, Eddie was opening the door. “What? Ashamed to be seen with me?”

“You’re the one with the reputation to protect, Munson.” Steve’s voice shook slightly.

Eddie immediately moved out of the way to let him in. Steve stepped in, nearly falling on the two steps it took to get up. He closed the door behind himself so he could lean on it.

“You okay, big boy?”

Steve tried to smile at that. He really did. “I need to sit,” was his response.

Eddie followed him to the couch, fully prepared to catch a male who was practically his own height. The injured male sucked in a breath when he sat down, his hand going to his left ribs.

“Who’d you try to fight this time, Harrington?” Eddie was on his way to the freezer to see if there was anything that could be used as an ice pack. Frozen peas and a beer should do the trick.

Steve heard the footsteps stop when the older male took in the sight before him. He had taken off the sunglasses and the hood. His eye was bruised and swollen shut, his lip was split, and his nose might have still been bleeding, but the most shocking part was his hair. It had been shaved badly. There was a line of hair that was completely missed. There were a lot of short hairs sticking out everywhere, and lines of blood…

Eddie’s hands had tightened around the items he was holding until his knuckles were white. The can might have crunched slightly, but Steve’s flinch took him out of it.

“Who am I killing?” Eddie asked as he opened the beer and held it out for Steve. As soon as the drink was taken, he carefully put the bag of peas beside him on the couch. Eddie knelt beside Steve’s knee, looking up at the crying male and resisted the urge to try and touch him.

“My, uh.” Steve paused. “My mom said I looked pretty and I blushed, you know. I must have looked too happy about it.” He couldn’t look at the male whose couch he was currently sitting on. “My dad lost his shit. Said no son of his was going to be a fucking queer, and, uh. Well you see it.” His eyes closed. “Help me take off the sweater? I don’t think I can move my arms above my head again.”

Eddie did as he was asked as gently as he could after moving the beer to the coffee table. Steve hadn’t even taken a drink. He saw red when he saw how many bruises littered the younger male's body. Saw the cuts on his hands and arms.

“Well, you aren’t going back there.” His voice left no room for argument. “Not while he’s there. Other than that, you have complete say in how to… handle this. But I’m not letting you leave. Not tonight.”

Steve sagged back against the couch and let his head fall back.

“Nope. You aren’t tilting your head back with a bloody nose, either.”

The injured male grunted, but he did listen.

“Thank you. I’ll be back with some stuff to get you cleaned up.”

Steve grunted again. Then softly, he asked a question that he never could have imagined asking before all of this. Not even in his wildest dreams. “Would you… finish shaving my head?”

Eddie’s face crumpled. Everyone knew how important Steve’s hair was to him.

“Yeah, yeah I can.”

—

Steve was as cleaned up as he was going to get without going to the hospital. The worst of his injuries were bandaged, he had an Ace bandage wrapped around his ribs, and bags of frozen peas. Eddie had let him borrow some clothes.

He felt weird in sweats and an Iron Maiden shirt, but he was grateful that they fit. That he didn’t have to go home. At some point, he had taken Eddie’s hand and intertwined their fingers when he wasn’t met with any objections. They were watching something on TV, though that was more turned on just so Steve would have an excuse to not have to talk.

He had never been more grateful to Eddie than he was right now. He was about to say something when he heard a car pulling up and he squeezed his friend’s hand tighter.

“Hey, hey. It’s okay, big boy. It’s just my uncle.”

Steve let out a shaky breath and nodded. “He’s, uh. He’s going to be okay with me being here?”

“He’s used to me taking in strays.”

Steve laughed, then groaned and took his hand back to hold his ribs. “Asshole.”

“You know you love me.”

Steve was trying to figure out how to respond to that, blushing and smiling, when the door opened.

“Steve,” Wayne greeted with a nod.

“Wayne,” he replied softly.

The older male took in the sight in front of him and hummed in thought. He didn’t say anything, he just went to the kitchen and started taking stuff out of the bag that he had brought in with him. The microwave started and Steve looked at Eddie.

“He’s gonna be staying with us awhile,” Eddie informed his uncle without preamble.

“Good. He should.”

“Thank you.”

“Hmm.”

Steve wanted to take Eddie’s hand again, but he didn’t dare. Not with an adult in the house. Eddie seemed to be able to read his thoughts because next thing he knew, they were holding hands again and Steve felt himself relax again.

Wayne brought three tv dinners to the coffee table before sitting down on the couch, leaving Eddie in the middle.

“I’m not the type to make a fuss,” Wayne started. “But you aren’t going back to that house alone. I’ll go with you to get your stuff tomorrow and you’re going to stay with us. And that’s the end of it.”

“You’re getting soft,” Eddie teased with a grin.

Wayne just hummed. They all ate in silence and the only thing that Steve felt right now, the pain not included, was gratitude.

—

Steve was grateful that he had an adult with him when he got home the next day. Wayne followed him in and up to his room before standing outside the door with his arms crossed.

Steve’s mom was crying and his dad was yelling. Wayne didn’t react other than to make sure Steve was alone to gather what he needed without being hurt again.

After about fifteen minutes, he had everything he needed in a duffel bag and a couple of boxes. His mother helped him by taking a box. Wayne took the duffel bag, and Steve was left with the lighter box to carry.

“I’m not paying you to steal my boy.” There was venom in that voice that had Steve whimpering.

“I don’t need your money, Harrington.”

His stuff was put in the pickup bed. He hugged his mom who slipped him something and kissed the side of his face that had less injuries.

“I love you, Stevie. I’m sorry it turned into this.”

“Me, too, mom.”

He got in the truck and buckled up before looking out the window, away from his father.

Wayne got in as well after a few minutes, then they drove in silence. It was surprisingly comfortable.

Eddie had a Hellfire thing that Steve had refused to let him reschedule.

“Oh, um. Happy birthday by the way.” Steve said when they got back to the trailer.

“Thanks, kid.”

Steve smiled small before getting out and grabbing some stuff to bring it in. Wayne helped him get everything into Eddie’s room before humming and walking away.

Steve sat on the bed and opened the envelope that his mother had given him. Inside was the title to the car that he had been driving, and a lot of money. Way too much. His heart was pounding quickly as he stood up and went back to the living room. Wayne was sitting on the couch with a beer. Steve sat beside him and took a breath before handing him all the money that was in the envelope.

“I can’t take this.”

“Mom gave it to me.”

“It’s yours.”

“But… I’m going to be staying with you.”

Wayne looked at him. “One hundred bucks a month. Absolutely nothing more. Do you understand?”

“Yes sir.”

—

Eddie was helping Steve clean headstones. His long hair was pulled back into a messy bun. Steve’s own hair was a few inches long.

It had been months of them spending every night in the same bed. They still did their own thing a lot during the day. But at night, there were lots of hushed conversations and giggles until sleep overtook them.

Steve was falling. Hard. But he wasn’t going to say anything. Not when all they’ve done was hold hands and cuddle.

“I have something I need to tell you,” Eddie said after a few moments of silence.

Steve’s heart skipped a beat. “Yeah? What it is.”

“I’ve been going at your pace this whole time. I was going to wait until you were ready. But I need you to know that I really want to kiss you, big boy.”

“Come here, then,” he said without hesitation.

Eddie wiped his hands on his bandana before turning toward the younger male, gently cupping his face, and pressing their lips together.

[musyroom599]

can you make an erasermic x reader or just an erasermic one-shot?

I'll try my best 😄

Hope you enjoy as always have a good day!

Warning: mentions of abuse

Erasermic x reader

You walk into U.A high to start your first day as a teacher. You take a deep breath as you walk into the teachers lounge and look around to see a couple pro heros you recognize from the news.

"this is awesome" you think to yourself as you head towards the coffee maker.

You see a grumpy older man with black long hair and a tired expression drinking coffee. as a spunky man with blonde hair tries to negotiate something that you don't quite understand.

you grab some coffee and go to grab creamer as you see the black haired man is blocking it. But you being you are to shy to ask him to move.

The spunky blonde man looks at you and smiles looking back at the black haired man. "Sho your blocking the creamer" he says and winks at you causing you to blush slightly

"your so annoying" the black hair man says as he moves

"Th..thx" you say quietly.

"no problem!" He says warping a arm around aizawa.

You look at them and smile "support" you say happily.

"huh?" The blonde hair says clearly confused.

"oh sorry you guys just reminded me of a old married couple" you say awkwardly.

The blonde hair man thinks for a minute "she thinks where married...and old apparently" the black haired man says.

The blonde haired man laughs "oh that's what you meant. Well where not married but we are dating"

"oh my bad sorry" you say nervously

"Nah don't worry about it" the blonde smile's

"Your the new teacher here correct?" The black haired man asks

"yeah the names y/n".

"well I'm Hizashi and the is shota" the blonde man smiles

"....wait..... I recognize you guys you guys are Eraserhead and present mic right?" You say happily

"Yes that's us" shota says slightly annoyed

"I'm honored to meet you two. But I should get going"

"See ya later cutie!" Hizashi says and winks at you again.

You blush furiously and leave the room accidentally leaving your coffee behind.

"You need to stop flirting with strangers Hizashi" shota says sighing

"what you jealous?" Hizashi asks smugly

"in your dreams" shota walks out of the room

Later that day your lounging around the couch in the teachers lounge grading history papers. "Being a teacher is so freaking hard" you sigh to yourself.

"Tell me about it"

You look up to see shota leaning on the back of the couch with a coffee cup in hand staring down at you.

"Oh, hi shota"

you sit up so you can see him better.

"you know this room isn't your living room right?" Shota looks at you slightly annoyed.

"yeah I know.. but this place is so much more relaxing then my place so I thought I could grade papers here"

"How is school more relaxing then your own home" shota gives you a perplexed look.

"um..."

" there you are sho!!" You hear someone yell from behind shota.

"I wasn't aware you where looking for me" shota sighs as Hizashi leans over the back of the couch to look at you his hair dangling into your face.

"let them breath Hizashi" shota gives Hizashi a stern look.

"they don't seem to mind" he smiles and he nods towards you who is playing with his hair.

You pause as you notice what you're doing. "I am so sorry" you quickly apologize.

"nah I don't mind. It feels good actually" Hizashi smiles as shota rolls his eyes.

You blush slightly and smile "I...I can counting if you want"

"it's up to you" he ruffles you hair then looks at shota to discuss teacher stuff as you play with his hair.

The next day you arrive at the school pretty early.

"i hope I'm not to early" you say to yourself as you walk into the teachers lounge.

As you pass by a mirror you see a bruise on your face.

"shoot it actually bruised." You sigh. "That bastard. I hope no one notices"

"You hope no one notices what?" You hear shota say as you jump to face him .

"Sh..shota I didn't see you there"

"clearly" he responds and looks at your cheek which has a bruise on it.

"what happened?" He says there's a certain sternness to his voice which scares you.

"Um... nothing happened I'm fine" you say nervously covering your bruise.

"that bruise says otherwise" he moves your hand so he can see the bruise.

"it's from my dad." You sigh

"your dad?" He asks as he looks at you anger boiling up inside of him.

"mhm...he got a little drunk last night." You look away.

"that's no excuse to hit his child" He almost shouts

"hey guys what are you talking about" Hizashi walks in and pauses after seeing the bruise on your face.

"Omg y/n what happened!?" He runs to you and inspects the bruise on your face.

"My dad go a little drunk but I'm fine really" you force a smile.

"I want to meet your dad" aizawa says sternly.

"it's fine shota really"

"it's not at all fine" Hizashi says hugging you.

You pause as he hugs you but after a minute hug him back. Burying you face into his chest.

"Thx" you whisper

After work you waln towards your house with the two pro heros following close behind you protectively.

"You guys really sure you wanna do this?"

"Of course we are" Hizashi gives you a reassuring smile and ruffles your hair. You look at shota who just nods.

"okay if you're sure" you shrug

As you approach your house you pull out a spare key and unlock the door.

"dad I'm home!" You call out

"the hell took you so long"you hear your dad grumble from the living room.

"I ..i brought some guests...they want to talk to you" you fidget nervously as you walk towards the living room.

Your father looks at shota and Hizashi. "Aren't these those two pro heros you can girl over so freaking much?" Your father asked madly.

"uh...yes" you whisper looking down scared but also trying to hide your blush.

Hizashi puts his hand on your shoulder.

"I'd like to talk to you about the way you've been treating y/n" aizawa says clearly holding back anger

"what the hell did you tell them!?!!" Your father yells at you and you step back.

"I suggest you shut up" shota says glaring at your dad.

Hizashi looks at you. "Let's wait outside while sho handles to is okay?" He says and you nod following him outside the house.

You both sit in silence. Hizashi speaks up and breaks the silence. "So your a fan girl?" He says smugly while smiling.

"uh..i...maybe?" You say blushing furiously.

Hizashi laughs "I can see why I am pretty impressive"

"And cocky" you say smile.

"that what sho's always telling me.

You smile you see police cars pull up to the house.

"uh...Hizashi why are the police here?"

Shota walks out of your house with your father in his capture scarf.

"I'll kill you!!" Your father yells at you as he struggles to break out of shota's capture weapon.

"Shut it" aizawa snaps at him and your father stays quiet as the police arrest him.

You all sit in silence. "Now what?" You aks looking at the both of them.

Hizashi's face lights up "you should come live with me and sho!"

You look at shota who smiles "sounds good to me" he responds and ruffles your hair.

A couple hours later you able it to there house and look around.

"welcome home cutie!" Hizashi smiles as you blushing.

"enough with the flirting" shota sighs

Omg this took so freaking long to make but I enjoyed it so much kinda made it up as a I went along so yeah bye~

[theyanderespecialist]

Taking Care (Headcanons) Yandere Striker X Injured Reader (Helluva Boss)

[Hello, My Sexy Muffins! I am here with a new chapter! This one was requested off of YouTube 11 months ago! I will have more in the video version on YouTube and TikTok (TikTok might die but I post videos there as well)  I hope you all enjoy this chapter here my muffins!] 

(Disclaimer: Striker is not yandere in canon! This is just for fun and not to be taken seriously at all! Simping for fictional characters and yanderes is fine, just do not be illegal or gross about it. You know who you are, you dirty flaky biscuits! Yanderes are not ideal partners to have in real life. Also, remember to separate fiction from reality and headcanon from canon!) 

(TWIGGER WARNING: Mentions and Themes of Physical Abuse, Please Read this, or watch the video with Caution!) 

-Headcanons With Yandere Striker X Injured Reader From Helluva Boss- 

.Now striker would take care of you for sure, but let's be honest there is at least a 50 percent chance he was the one to injure you... so let's talk about it~  .If he was the one to injure it is likely you tried to run away.  .But also he could have been jealous and accidentally hurt you.  .Now if it was you trying to run away I am certain your leg is at least broken! Can't run from him now, can ya? .If it was him getting jealous and accidentally hurting you it may have been a backhand or pulling your hair or dragging you back home by your wrist leaving bruises.  .He of course feels awful if he accidentally hurt you, though he would gaslight you still and make you feel like it was your fault. .And if he punished you and injured you, he will also continue to gaslight you, saying if you were a good darling then you would not have been punished.  .He rarely if ever takes the blame for injuring you, so be ready for that.  .But if hurt you on accident and caused serious damage, the cowboy would have so much damn guilt and he would try extra hard to pamper you and treat you right.  .Yup Striker is that type of yandere where he may cross a line and hurt you, but he buys your favorite flowers, cooks your favorite meals, and pampers ya.  .This is what an abuser does and what he does as his yandere side. 

(DISCLAIMER: If a man, woman, or whatever else hits you, then is all sweet and nice to you, until they get angry again and hit you, that is abuser stuff. I had a coworker who had a boyfriend who did that, she would get random flowers delivered every few weeks, one day she sweated off makeup and had a black eye, we got her to talk to us and she explained what was going on. I won't share any more of that BUT This is something you need to get out, if it starts with something small but that person can lose control more and more, how long will it go on, do you want his anger to be the last thing you see? if you are in a situation like this and can't get out I am not shaming you! It is hard especially when kids are in the picture and my heart goes out to you all! I pray for anyone in this stuff to be safe and sound, love you my sexy muffins) 

.Truth is he does not want to hurt you and he hates himself for it.  .But he still does it cause he does not want to lose you and it is the only way he knows he can keep you in line.  .He still tries his best to use it as a last resort.  .Now if you were injured from falling down the stairs be worried and make sure the stairs are baby-proof so you don't slip on them again.  .If you cut yourself or burn yourself while cooking he would clean them up and bandage them, he would scold you but make sure you were okay first.  .If someone else was to injure you, they would be tortured for weeks if not months on end, he would shatter whoever dared harm you. 

.He might have to get rough with you, but he for sure as hell would not let anyone else lay a hand on you. 

.Hell be damned. 

.He is protective and caring but when the time comes for it, he will do whatever it takes to keep you, even if that means he has to lay hands on you and your family. 

[YASSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS another chapter is done! I hope you all enjoyed this, and stay sexy, all of my sexy muffins!] 

[matt-h3w]

Okay but like Billy Hargrove, right.... We all know his dad sucks ass, but like, comforting Billy after his dad beat him..... Breaks me, but like also like the fluff of it is just Eeeeee. Ya know?

_______________________________________________

TW: wounds, abuse mentions, lack of self worth. Slight reference to readers trauma.

G/N reader, sure the man is cannonly straight, but I do it for the girls, the gays, and the theys, and everything in between.

------------------------------------------------------------

You enter his room and see him sitting on his bed, head in his hands with cuts and bruises covering his exposed skin you slowly walks over to him, brushing his hair out of his face, speaking softly "hey, what happened to you?" All he could do was look at you, tears starting to form in his eyes. Your lips make contact with his forehead as a form of comfort "it was your dad wasn't it?" You asked, and he nodded the tears spilling out.

His breathes are shaking, as he tries to keep in sobs. No one had ever seen him so vulnerable no one but you. You somehow managed to become something more than just a stranger in a small town. He couldn't manage to figure out just how you slipped between the walls he put up around his heart but there you were, he would never say but he wished your kisses meant more than comforting him. That you holding him was more than pity.

He wished that you loved him more than a friend. You gave him something he thought he could never have, someone to turn to in time of need. Someone to lean on when he felt he couldn't stand. Someone who'll care for him, and love him despite his flaws.

He always told himself he didn't deserve you. He knew he didn't. But yet you were still there by his side holding him close. "Let's get you cleaned up, hmm?" You whisper softly to him, you knew that he had been yelled at earlier and didn't want to make things worse.

_______________________________________________

you came back with a first aid kit and had been disinfecting the cuts, and putting bandaids on them if it was needed, you also took the time to make sure his bone weren't broken. He'd wince every now and again, and everytime you'd apologize. It made his heart swell, but he couldn't help but feel sorry for you, you never once hesitated to come to his aid, no matter how late, or how tired you were. He wondered how many nights you'd stay awake just in case he needed you.

He couldn't bare the thought of you losing sleep because of him, he didn't understand why he fell so easily for you, maybe it was the way you never once treated him any less than a person. Or the sarcastic comments you'd make when he was flirting with you. Or the way you didn't put up with his bullshit twords you, if you didn't like how he treated you, he'd get an earful without hesitation.

There was so much he loved about you, he thought you were undeniably beautiful. Regardless if you thought it yourself.

"Hey, you doing okay?" Your voice broke him out of his thoughts, he looked at you, the concern that filled your gaze made any tensed muscles in his body immediately relax , and his heart melt. His voice came out soft and broken as if he tried to talk to loud he'd cry again. "yeah" and the way you smiled at him, god your smile never failed to make warmth spread through his chest, up his neck, and to his face.

"You know when I heard your voice over the phone.... I wanted to kill him.." You spoke, He had called you, he always did after it got bad, every time his voice would shake and crack, trying not to break right then and there. He felt a sort of guilt run through his veins.

You felt hurt for him, when he didn't want to bare the emotion, you did, when he didn't want to bare the pain, you'd take it, when the weight became too much, you'd lift it off him. He never asked you to, he couldn't ever do that, but you still did, no matter how fucked up things got for you, you never stopped helping him.

That fact alone broke his heart.... You got up and set the first aid kit on his nightstand "do you still have the bag?" You asked gently fixing his hair. He nodded slowly "yeah, I do..." All you did was grab his hands gently, and pull him up, you both knew that he willing let you because if he didn't you wouldn't have been able to move him.

He grab the bag he kept stashed away in his closet, he had it for when he needed to get away, he never stayed away long because of Max. He'd never say it to her face but he really did care about her well-being.

------------------------------------------------------------

He found himself in the passenger seat of your car, his bag in the backseat. He would have taken his but the engine would have given him away. He was tapping his fingers on his thighs trying to focus on the road ahead. The car was silent other than the radio playing softly.

He felt your hand slide into his, which made him look at you. With a quick smile, you looked back at the road. He held your hand as if he was scared that when he let go, you'd be gone. You felt the tightness of his grip, it didn't hurt by any means, you felt your heart flutter at the way he clung to you even if it was only holding your hand.

You could never understand why he looked at you the way he did, but you were grateful that he trusted you enough to let you see the side of him that he kept tucked away. That he felt safe enough with you to cry, you knew that it was hard to do that and though seeing him so broken made your heart ache, it also made you so happy to know he'd let himself be vulnerable with you. You finally broke the silence, "you can stay in my room tonight if you want...." You're heart was pounding in your head, you'd be lying to yourself if you said that giving him that option didn't make you nervous. What if it made him uncomfortable.... You felt his grip falter just for a second.

"I'd like that.... If you're sure you're okay with it" his voice was just loud enough to hear. "I wouldn't have offered if I wasn't okay with it" you said, though within a certain perspective some might say that the words that you just spoke were talking down to him. He found them as words of reassurance, telling him you'd never do something that you didn't want to, that caring for him was something you genuinely wanted to do with your time. He found himself falling deeper into love with you with every little moment you shared.

He didn't even realize he was doing it till the back of your hand met his lips. The second he realized what he had done, he glanced over at you, frantically searching for any sigh of discomfort. But all he found was a soft smile displayed upon your lips. He felt your hand flex slightly, giving him a soft squeeze of confirmation that you were okay with his actions.

He pressed his lips further against your skin. Enjoying the smoothness against his mouth. The warmth coming off of you. When he pulled your hand back from his lips, he glanced at you again, though it was dark he could see the rosey color that had adorned your features, the smile that had grown wider, the soft twinkle of appreciation in your eyes as you focused on the road. You had finally reached your driveway, after all you didn't live very far. You didn't let go of his hand until you both got out of the car. He made sure to grab his bag from the backseat before getting out, once the car was locked you slid your hand back in his.

------------------------------------------------------------

He had set his bag on the floor of your room, he always love being in it. Surrounded by well.... You... The posters, the comic books, the drawings, the photos, the figurines, the vinyls, the plushies. He even loved the scattered books that you forgot to put away, or the unorganized makeup on the vanity. Even the random trinkets that sat in your windowsill. He has so many memories of late nights he spent with you, even if the reason he was there sucked ass, he loved being with you.

[ike-bana]

Fragments (Dabi x reader)

Pairing : Dabi x fem! reader

words: 1.9K

Genre: Angst

Content warning : Toxic relationships/unhealthy relationships, arguments, alcohol use, smoking,angst,mentions of abuse, swearing, mentions of violence,pregnancy,mature/adult themes,no clear spoliers except you squint really hard,manupilation(if you squint). Minors DNI

Summary: All that's left of your relationship were tiny fragments, tiny little fragments you were trying to put back together yet even you were reaching your limit.

Songs to set the mood: Been like this by Doja cat / I hate everything about you by three days grace. If you have your own playlist,it's fine as well!

A/N: I was in a angsty mood and this came up so suffer or enjoy whichever. I also used the British past tense of burn cause that's what I use. I view the reader as female but I don't think gender was stated here so do with that what you wish

You sat there on the cold tiled floor as your back was leaning on the kitchen wall. You covered your face with your trembling tear stained hands. Your eyes were red and puffy and your head was throbbing. Your body was worn and weary from all the crying that you could no longer let out a proper sob. You let out a shaky sigh as you were terribly exhausted. This wasn't new to you, you were used to situations like this, often times you'd lock yourself in the bathroom hugging yourself and sobbing uncontrollably until he calmed down. It wasn't like it was an uncommon occurrence .All couples fought at some point in their relationships,it was always bound to happen

but damn, this was the fifth time this week.

You folded your legs under your thighs in a cross-legged fashion kicking a ceramic shard in the process. That was your brand new plate you got for 20% off at the store

or at least what was left of it.

You scanned the kitchen carefully, taking in the blatant state of complete disarray. Broken plates and cups flooded the room ,chairs toppled over and one of the table's legs had come off, knocking it off balance. you had to replace the good as damaged piece of furniture the next time you went shopping. As saddened as you were,a small part of you was grateful he didn't burn the place down with his quirk.You knew very well what he was capable of and you wouldn't stand a chance with your subpar quirk. You could turn small items into powder. It couldn't be used against people or animals and it wouldn't work on anything larger than small notepad.You wouldn't want to call it useless as it has helped you quit the number of times but you knew it couldn't hold a candle to your boyfriend's flame quirk.

You grimaced as you heard a blunt being lit in the next room followed by the clanging of bottles from the cabinet. His usual routine after a fight like this, you could count the number of times you had told him to stop but he'd always snap at you so you gave up trying. It helped him keep calm since he couldn't burn the place down. He had never raised his hand against you,something you were once again grateful for but he almost burnt you with his quirk.Almost. It was just that one time and he apologized. That was what you kept telling yourself. Dabi did indeed apologize and he went above and beyond to make it up to you both physically and emotionally,in more ways than one.

"Y/N"

your train of thought was disrupted as you heard him call your name,you were so deep in thought that you didn't even notice him come in. You stood up from the kitchen floor abruptly and dusted your skirt. He stood there towering over you with a cigarette between his middle and pointer finger and a rocks glass on the same hand.

"Y-yes" you stuttered trying so hard to fix your composure but failing woefully.

"Get out" He said plainly and clearly

"what?"

You stared on in disbelief ,your lips parting slightly gripping the hem of your shirt tightly , tears long and forgotten threatened to repeat their cycle.

"Don't make me repeat myself"

"B- But Dabi I live here,I paid for this place "

He had moved in with you a couple of months ago after you insisted. Although he wasn't always around due to his work in the league,he did stop by and sleep over. He deemed it unnecessary seeing as he already stayed a couple of nights and slept in your bed. You said you just wanted to feel closer to him so you urged him to move all his belongings here

"Fine , guess I'll leave" He stormed out of the small building, slamming the door in the process.

The sobs came out naturally and the salty tears like the gushing waters of Niagara falls. where did it all go wrong?.Oh you wanted to fix this so badly but what more could you do?.

You used to be so happy together,so,so normal. But now everything was all in shambles. All you had done was call him out on his secrecy and urged him to be more open and honest with you. you knew he was hiding something about himself. Instead of being calm and understanding he snapped at you and this led to a full on world war 2 in your kitchen

You leaned your back against the wall and slid down to the floor. You let yourself cry once more but now with less restraint. You sobbed,sniffiled and whimpered until nothing came out. You don't know how long you sat there but you were sure hours had past. You couldn't properly tell as it had already been dark out long ago. You couldn't do this anymore,you loved Dabi with all your heart as strange as it was. You don't know what exactly attracted you to the raven haired villain.Whether it was his bad boy persona or the undeniable urge you had to "fix" him, you could never tell. But love works in strange ways. That's why it was hard for you to do this but you had to end this. For your sake and theirs

Gathering the last ounces of strength, you had left in you,you stood up from the floor,stumbling slightly. You walked into your shared bedroom and pulled out a black duffel bag from the closet drawer by the door. You took every item of clothing he owned and hurriedly folded them into the bag. Knowing him,he probably wouldn't be back till the next day or week,it was impossible to predict. But either way it gave you enough time to prepare yourself. You didn't know how he was going to take this but you had to stand your ground,you weren't going to take this lying down.

And just like that as if fate was trying to play some cruel sick joke on you,the door flung open and Dabi came sauntering into the bedroom.

"Listen Y/N I-"

You stopped in your tracks and turned around to face him looking like a deer caught in headlights , clinging desperately to the black t-shirt you held in your hands. He looked you over,carefully processing what was going on. He narrowed his sapphire eyes and clenched his fists tightly

"What the fuck are you doing?" he asked surprisingly calm

"Dabi,I'm tired. I can't do this anymore. I'm done" you managed to let out

Just as that was said,he let out a warped hysterical laugh. A look of fear in accordance with pure confusion was evident on your face.You always knew your boyfriend was off his rocker but you weren't expecting him to react this way. Your lips were quivering and a chill ran up your spine.He calmed down and wiped the non-existent tears from his stapled eyes.

"You know what's funny? I came back all the way here to apologize and this is how you repay me"

"Dabi,I'm serious,we can't do this with you anymore" You finally found your voice once more although it didn't come out as assertive as you wanted it to.

" Wait,we? The fuck are ya talking about"

"I-" you paused.

You had managed to hide this for a span of two weeks now. He'd been going in and out lately so it made it a lot less tasking to conceal it. But now it seemed futile to keep this up any longer especially since he was putting you on the spot like this

" Dabi I" you exhaled

"Dabi I'm pregnant"

His face visibly softened when you told him that. He stared blankly at you as if you had grown a second head. You glanced at him when he hadn't said anything,his silence made you apprehensive. It wasn't something that was planned so it wouldn't surprise you if he was upset. You could have sworn you had used protection but alas these things do fail.

"Wait,are you serious?" He asked,forehead creased

"Yes,I am" you avoided his questioning gaze

What he had done next after had shocked you. He pulled you into a warm embrace. His charred hands combed through your strands of hair.

"I'm so happy,this is good news" His voice was muffled as he had buried his face on your shoulder

"Wait,what?"

"I said I'm happy Y/n,this is good news"

"No,I heard what you said,I'm just surprised that you're not upset"

"Why would I be upset?,you're carrying my kid in you"

You broke out of his embrace and stared at him with your eyebrows furrowed. You were confused as to who this man was and what he had done to your rather abrasive boyfriend

"Hey earth to Y/n" he waved his hand in front of your face

You gave him a hard look before glancing around the room like a patient with amnesia. Your eyes caught the half-open duffel bag that lay long forgotten on the floor. It was then that you recalled what had brought you to the bedroom in the first place .If he thinks you'd sweep that under the carpet then he had another thing coming.

"Babe,are you OK?. You look tense" he spoke up when you hadn't said anything casting you a worried look.

"Dabi,I'm glad that you're happy about this whole pregnancy and all but that doesn't erase what's going on. Having a baby doesn't make this situation suddenly resolved,we still need to end this"

The look he had given you was one you had never seen before. It was a perfect blend of remorse,anxiety,sadness and you could could have sworn you saw fear in the mix.Nothing like the scowls he had given you that night

"I know I haven't been the best boyfriend lately and I know I've done nothing but fuck things up but please give me a chance" he had reached out a hand to you and placed it on your shoulder but you shrugged it off

" Dabi,shit isn't that easy,I've given you more chances then I could conceivably count. You've gotten even more aggressive than usual lately and it's concerning. I can't keep placing myself in this kind of toxic environment,it's not healthy for me or the baby"

Your back was turned away from him now.If he kept staring at you like that, you might change your mind. His broken expression made you want to run into his warm embrace and break down right there but you knew better than that.

"Y/N, come-come on let me fix this"

"No Dabi,you've done more than enough" You said bitterly looking down in regret

" OK Y/N,i know this is probably a joke and you got me good,I won't lie. Now stop playing around,I get it"

His forced chuckle made you grimace,he was being persistent and this was making it harder for you.

"Dabi,look if you don't leave then I'm afraid I have to"

You made your way over to the closed closet to pick out your clothes, passing over the discarded duffle bag on the floor. Before,you could fling the closet doors open,you felt a tight hug on your waist from behind. You wanted to protest,to shove him away from you but you knew he was stronger than you,so you just stood there. Dabi was never the clingy type so his actions made you perplexed but not as perplexed as the words that left his mouth not long after

"Please don't leave me,Don't take everything away from me,just like-just like they did"

what exactly did he mean by that?. His words made you further realize how little you truly knew about your villain boyfriend. He had never spoken of anything like this .But then again,he never spoke about himself or his past. That was part of the various reasons why you were even in this situation in the first place.This was definitely out of character for him so you wanted to press further

"Dabi, who is they? what are you talking about?"

"They took it all away from me,my life,my childhood. It was "his"fault,he did it to me. Please don't treat me like he did. Please you're all I have,you're the only person who could ever love me" He kept pleading keeping whoever he was talking about in question anonymous.

You had never seen him like this,it broke you to say the least. And just as if a fragile cord had snapped inside your brain,you let tears flow out once more that night,returning the villain's embrace. He sounded so distressed and you couldn't take this any longer. You weren't sure whether it was the hormones or a genuine sympathetic response that made you lose your resilience,but all you knew was you wanted to hold him and tell him everything was going to be alright.

"No Dabi I won't" *sniff*" I won't leave you" what were you thinking?,he needed you,you couldn't just leave him.

"Really?" He broke apart and gave you a crestfallen look.

"Yes Dabi.Really. We can work something out this time" you stroked his cheeks, devoid of skin and replaced by open flesh and staples.

His little rants had deeply concerned you but you knew you would have to pry about it some other time.

He dove back into your arms and squeezed you tightly,not enough to hurt you but it was still a tight grip. You returned his embrace and leftover tears fell from your eyes as you smiled.

" I promise you,you won't regret it" The staples near his cheeks rose as his lips formed a malevolent smirk

" You won't regret it at all"

[nagisa-666]

《Muzan! F! Reader x Yan! Izana》

《CROSS POSTED TO WATTPAD》

《WARNINGS!: kind of yandere, mentions of cheating, reader is a cheater, curse words, threats, reader is manipulative, crossover KNY x TR》

"Ah, Kibutsuji-san! What a pleasure to see you again-" Kisaki began, trying to talk to (Name) in a light hearted manner as he sat down, smiling at the (e/c) eyed girl who just glared at him, ignoring the white haired male who walked in after the tanned male.

"Who ever said you can talk to me? Kneel down and stay silent before I give you permission to talk to me, peasant. Don't ever look into my eyes without my permission." (Name) interrupted, voice bland but eyes glaring at the male in front of her, making the long haired male behind her step forward, before she raised a hand to stop him.

Kibutsuji (Name), a cruel and vile woman whose poison was like honey, who dressed extravagantly, showing her wealth and status constantly. Just like now, she was wearing a fine black kimono, decorated with red lilies and wearing elegant heels that went with her kimono, matching her (h/v) hair and (e/c) eyes. Her make up was excellent, showing off her features well.

"Haha... Okay..." Kisaki chuckled in a sort of weirded out, dejected kind of way. Fuckin weirdo.

"Hey, Kisaki. Who is this?" Izana asked, watching them with a blank face as (Name) took a glance at the dark skinned male, face making a disgusted expression.

"This woman right here is Kibutsuji (Name), one of the youngest millionaires and surprisingly not surprising, she runs a gang too. The reason I'm meeting with her today is for deal, in fact." Kisaki bitch face said, giving a fake smile as (Name) scoffed, crossing her arms as she scowled, Michikasu, or more known as Kokushibo, stepped forward and broke out a bokken.

"I'm not 'just' Kibutsuji (Name), one of the youngest millionaires. I am the leader of the current most dangerous gang, with 6 total units and over 150 members in each unit. In fact, I find almost pathetic that a rival gang was created in na attempt to defeat my own. They've been failing to do so in all of the years they've existed. My dear cousin is so pathetic. He's been switching the captains every time they fail." (Name) explained nonchalantly, putting her hand out as she talked with a bored face, making the dark skinned male focus on her sharp nails, noticing how the tips were a faint blue color, then bringing it back to the arm holder on her chair, before the male behind her cleared his throat, making everyone focus on him instantly. (Name) just rolled her eyes and sighed.

"What is it now, Kokushibo? Are we running late for an appointment or what." (Name) said, crossing her legs as she brought one hand up to her face.

"(Name)-sama, Akaza says that he's done with his task now. We'd better get back before Douma irritates him into breaking his jaw again." Kokushibi said simply, making (Name) roll her eyes sharply before standing up, her heels clicking loudly against the stone flooring as she ignored the stuttering the tanned male was doing.

"It was a waste of my time to believe that I would personally need to be here. Kokushibo, finish up here. I trust that you won't fail me." (Name) threatened, glaring at the taller from the corner of her eyes as he bowed, nodding his head before taking opening the door for her to escort her out to her car while Kisaki and Izana watched from a window. Kokushibo watched the car drive away before glaring at the window, going inside and sitting in front of them with a glare.

"Quit contacting (Name)-sama. She's far above filth like you. Her pure blood will not be tainted by you. Don't think of contacting her again. Now, what did you want to meet for?" Kokushibo said, glaring at them with a monotone face before allowing them to speak.

"Aren't you confident for just a servant? I bet you aren't even her favorite. We wanted to meet with your master for an alliance against Toman. Recently, we've heard that they've teamed up with that gang her cousin created. We just wanted to know if you wanted to join in a alliance to defeat them for good." Kisaki said, false grin finally falling as Izana stared at him with his creepy ass wide eyes and blank face. Kokushibo was a master at staring contests though so Izana lost.

Fucking loser.

"... As much as I hate to admit it, (Name)-sama would love for her cousin's pathetic gang to die. Fine. Only this once will I allow this transgression to occur. (Name)-sama hates those who are useless. In fact, because of it, she enjoys the third captain. If you kill him, I might let (Name)-sama even meet with you more. But that's only if you get rid of Hakuji Akaza."

"Such a disrespectful being shouldn't be allowed to be in her gang."

《Manila Future, Izana and (Name) engaged to be.》

Izana and (Name) were such an envious couple. With both looks and power, many of the underground were jealous of how great they were together, as the Emperor and Empress of the underworld.

Of course, (Name) knows that she doesn't actually mean shit about her vows.

'I swear till death do us part'? 'I'll love only you'? What kind of cringy shit was that? How do you think she managed to get so many under her foot? Even the child she held in her custody knew better.

(Name) Kibutsuji was a stone cold bitch. Any and all who fell for her traps knew that under any if her facades, she didn't give a single fuck who they were or what was wrong with them.

She just wanted soldiers who would do anything for her. Out of love or respect or fear, it didn't matter. Only those that would give up their lives for her no matter what happened to them would be rewarded. Just like Akaza.

Akaza is definitely her favorite, even if she doesn't act like it. But when you have a favorite, you have high expectations. And when those high expectations aren't met, you have to have a punishment ready.

To better someone, you need fear.

Anyone worthless is not needed.

Once Izana is no longer useful, she'd move on and find someone even more useful.

He doesn't matter in the end. He's just another fool who fell under a trap.

He'd understand that soon enough.

"Who was that?! Why are you acting like we're not married?!" Another day, another fit. Izana is slowly getting more useless. So, to not waste time, (Name) began to court another man from a top rising company.

Yes, she was married. But she wasn't going to be for much longer. Izana was just losing his mind, and when he loses his mind, he loses his respect. When he loses his respect, she gains it. And with every fit he has, she gains more followers.

She was playing a long game, but it was almost over, with her as the lone winner.

Everything she did, she did to make herself a higher authority. That's why she raised from a simple gang leader to the empress of the underworld. How she raised her parents company from good to exemplary.

And Izana was near useless now.

In fact, even she was surprised that she was still with him. If she left him, he'd lose everything he had. Just the fact that she thought to leave him made almost all find him pathetic. For the one who's been with him since high school to stay with him despite the embarrassment of his temper tantrums was humbling enough, but for even her to leave him?

It was honestly pathetic.

[1heartfanfics]

could you do a obx fic where jj is sick and his little sister (maybe reader or if you need a name you could use tj) passed it to him (by little i mean a few years younger) and either kiara or reader takes care of him and his sister because they're both super sick (it could be a bad virus or bug)

but it's totally up to you

Kiara was sitting on the couch at the chateau when she heard the front door suddenly open. She looked at John B questioningly, were they expecting anyone. He shrugged and got up to see who it was.

"John B?" a voice called from the front room. JJ. They hadn't heard from him hardly all week, he'd been taking care of his little sister Camryn all week since she'd caught the flu or something.

Kiara got up and followed John B to say hi to JJ but stopped short when she saw him. He had Camryn with him, holding her against his chest. But he was pale and shaking, looking like the effort of holding his five year old sister was too much. Not to mention the black eye and the dark purple bruise on his side, peeking through the arm hole of his cutoff tank top.

"Jesus JJ what happened?" John B spoke after a moment of silence.

"Hey Cam, can I take you for a second?" Kiara asked, waiting for the little girl to nod before she grabbed her under the arms and lifted her away from JJ to hold on her own hip. "You feeling better?" she asked, turning and walking back toward the living room. She gave John B a look that said 'start dealing with this' as she walked away. Cam didn't need to see or hear any more than she probably already had.

"JJ?" John B asked again. He hadn't said a word yet and looked on the verge of passing out.

"Think I caught Cam's bug," JJ said finally, after a long moment of silence.

"Yeah, why don't you sit down dude, you're really not looking so good" John B said, nodding.

"Yeah. Not feeling so good either," JJ said, moving stiffly over to the ratty couch on the screened in porch. "I might hurl in a sec JB," he added.

"Jesus okay hang on," John B got up and dashed inside for a trash can before returning and setting it on the floor in front of JJ. For a minute, JJ just sat there, leaning over the bucket and breathing hard, but eventually he pitched forward with a gag and brought up a mouthful of what looked like mostly stomach acid and bile.

"Shit, alright," John B cursed, scooting closer to his friend to put a hand on his back.

When JJ was finished dry heaving, having nothing in his stomach to actually bring up, John B went back inside to get a cup of water for him. After a few hesitant sips, JJ set the cup down, slumping against the arm of the couch. The position allowed his tank top to slip even further off of his body, revealing how far the bruise on his side extended over his stomach and chest.

"You gonna tell me what the hell happened now?" John B asked.

JJ sighed heavily. "Think you can probably guess," he shrugged.

Kie appeared in the doorway then, wincing as she took in the scene in front of her. John B gave her a pleading look, needing her to take over. He had no idea how to handle this situation. He'd never seen JJ like this.

"Why don't you take Cam down to the pier or something? I've got this," she said quietly. She slid onto the couch as John B got up, taking his place next to JJ.

"Thanks Kiara," he gave her a grateful smile, then headed into the other room to grab Cam and get her out of there.

"Hey Jayj," Kiara said softly, rubbing her hand up and down JJ's back.

"Hey Kie," JJ answered quietly from his slumped position.

"How about we get you laying down? That can't be comfortable," she said, wrapping an arm around his waist and pulling him off of the armrest. To her surprise, JJ was practically limp, letting her maneuver him to lay down, his head in her lap.

"Thanks," he muttered as she draped a blanket from the back of the couch over him, seeing as he was shivering despite the north carolina heat.

"Just try to sleep okay? I've got you," she said, even though his eyes were already slipping closed.

John B managed to keep Cam entertained outside until the sun started to set, and when they returned to the chateau they found JJ and Kiara laying on the cough together. She was awake, laying on her back with JJ pressed up against her, fast asleep on her chest.

Kiara flushed red with embarrassment but didn't move for fear of waking up the sick boy next to her. But John B didn't comment on it. He just gave her a smile as he pulled Cam into the kitchen with him to find them something to eat.

"How's he doing?" John B asked, walking back into the room a few minutes later with a bowl of mac and cheese for Kiara.

"Thank you," she said, managing to sit herself up a little without waking JJ so she could take the bowl from John B. "He's been in and out, but he pretty much throws up every time he wakes up and he's burning up," she added, answering John B's question.

"He tell you what happened?" he asked.

Kiara shook her head, "I haven't asked. Seems like it was bad this time."

"Yeah. You see the one on his stomach?" he asked.

She nodded grimly. This might be one of the worst they'd ever seen.

"Well I'm gonna go try to put Cam to bed and then I'll come back out. You need anything before I got?" John B asked.

"No, this is great, thank you," she said, gesturing to the empty bowl of pasta that she'd inhaled. She had been starving after laying here with JJ all day.

John B nodded, then headed back toward his bedroom, where Cam was playing with the few toys that were still laying around the chateau. He grabbed one of his t-shirts for her to change into and wear as a sort of nightgown, then helped her brush her teeth with her finger, since they hadn't brought anything from home with them.

"Are we staying here because Daddy hurt Jayjie?" she asked as John B tucked him in.

John B winced internally at the question, hoping it wouldn't come up. But of course she knew. She may have been little but she wasn't stupid. Even if she hadn't seen it happen she could sure as hell see her brother's bruised face.

"Yeah, but he's okay though. We're taking care of him," John B answered with as much positivity as he could manage. Truthfully he was worried about his friend, but she didn't need to know that.

"That's good. He always takes care of me," she nodded stoically.

"Well we'll take care of you too, okay?" John B said, sitting down on the edge of the bed.

"Okay," she said, tears welling in her eyes. They didn't fall though, as she blinked them away. What a tough kid.

Meanwhile, JJ had woken up and managed to walk to the bathroom and back without passing out or throwing up. Kiara had even been able to make him drink a few sips of water.

"JJ..." Kiara started, trying to figure out how to ask him if he was okay even though he clearly wasn't.

"Don't Kie, plese," JJ said quickly.

Kiara sighed, "Why can't you just let someone in for once? I'm here for you JJ. We're here for you," she said in frustration. Why was he always so stubborn.

"Because if I talk about it, I'll start crying. And if I start, I don't know if I'll ever be able to stop," he said, staring straight ahead to avoid Kiara's eyes, full of sadness for him.

"It's okay to cry sometimes JJ," she said.

Her voice was so soft, her gentle touch on his back and his shoulder so comforting that it melted him. Cut right through his wall of bullshit, that was already crumbling due to his illness. Before he could stop himself he let out a choked sob, vision clouding over with tears.

"Oh Jayj... come here," she said, gathering him into her arms as her heart broke for him.

John B stepped out of his room then, hearing the sound of his best friend crying from the other room. He quickly walked out into the front room. JJ was draped over Kiara, who held him in her lap as he sobbed into her shirt.

"Shh, shh, shh, I've got you," she whispered, catching John B's eyes as he stook awkwardly in the doorway. She motioned him with her head to join them. Hesitantly, he moved to sit on JJ's other side. He draped an arm over both Kiara and JJ's shoulders, landing them in a sort of group hug situation. "We've got you," Kiara amended. And they would sit there for as long as JJ needed them.

[an-otterly-adorable-being]

Rocky x Socialite!Reader Headcanons

Hello my friends, I have more headcanons! CW for mentions of abuse, as your dad in this one isn't the nicest guy. Antways, please enjoy!

---------------------------------------------------

• Since the day you were born, you had everything you could possibly want.

• You were born into a rich family, and from day one your job had been to look pretty and keep the investors happy and entertained.

• Expensive outfits, exuberant parties, once-in-a lifetime opportunities and an amount of money a family of four could live off of.

• And good lord was it boring.

• Sure, it's a bit selfish to hate your perfect life, but that didn't mean you'd stop hating it!

• For everything one thing that went well, two more went horribly.

• No college education because you didn't need it, no relationships because it made you "less approachable."

• It didn't help you had to talk good about your father when he regularly beat you for disobeying him.

• Life was miserable, until you met Rocky.

• You don't even remember how you first met, but he was so kind to you.

• Sure, he was most likely insane, but he was breath of fresh air.

• Plus when the two of you became friends, he'd climb up to your window and help you escape that damned house!

• How could you not develop feelings for him?

• Sure, at first you thought of him more as a novelty, but now that you had spent time with him, you were genuinely in love.

• Turns out he felt the same, which you learned when he climbed into your room and sang you a love song.

• It's a shame father wasn't exactly... thrilled about this.

• Yeah, when he caught the two of you about to kiss, he damn near killed Rocky.

• You helped him get out the window, keeping him safe.

• You, however, were not. The next night, you escaped from your room and made your way to the place he worked at.

• He was there with his friends and colleagues as you walked in.

• Rocky almost lost it when he saw the bruises.

• You managed to calm him down, telling him it's just a sad part of your life, and although he wasn't happy, he tabled his arson plans for the time being.

• Rocky held you in his arms that night, and the of you had been officially together since.

• You started sneaking out to the Lackadaisy regularly, and before long you became a part of their big old family.

• It was so different from your own. It felt so good.

• Rocky did make occasional visits to your home when your father calmed down, just this time with no song to serenade you.

• He also snuck around the house a lot, apparently.

• Whenever he helped you sleep, he snuck out of the room while you were unconscious.

• You trusted him, though, and so you never questioned what he was doing.

• One of the people you knew from those fancy parties, Wick, was also at the Lackadaisy a lot and he... actually empathized with you?

• Not to mention he also started talking with Rocky.

• Eventually, you found out why.

• One night, while you were cuddled up in Rocky's arms at the Lackadaisy, your father burst down the door, demanding you come home with him.

• And you felt angry for the first time since, what, that asshole Dillon Abernathy?

• You stood up to him, and he did the only thing he knew he could do in a place full of criminals.

• He threatened to call the police on them and get rid of the Speakeasy for good.

• You were so confused when you saw Rocky's evil little smile, but then things made sense.

• Him and Wick approached your father, and had physical evidence that not only was he having an affair, but he was also embezzling funds!

• Apparently Rocky had been sneaking around looking for dirt on your father, and boy did he find some.

• With Wick backing Rocky up, your father ended up leaving in a huff.

• After, of course, Rocky made sure you could make your own decisions.

• You couldn't help but leap into his arms after the fact, which ended up causing both of you to crumble to the ground.

• You gave him a quick kiss, and you felt so free and happy.

• And that was enough for you.

[wanderingmirror]

It happened all of a sudden.

Where millions of GAR troops were at different points of the galaxy, they were suddenly in a grey void like space.

Their faces pitch black except for scars or differences in appearance. Eyes pure white and armor their original phase one set and color. From the oldest to the youngest still alive they all stood there. It was strangely silent despite them all talking at once.

What was even more strange was the black crack splitting the ground and separating them from what looked like the Guard.

Similar to them, they had pitch black faces, and the differences shown in white with their eyes. Despite how many GAR troops there were, everyone could see as if they were standing in front. Almost like a Holo live recording on a Helmet comm.

The GAR was horrified to see scars or missing limbs marking their brothers on the other side of the crack.

It looked like one of the shiny Guards was holding on desperately to a batcher's hand, but the batcher just began to walk towards them. Pulling until the shiny Guard was forced to let go.

The shiny's eyes filled with red tears, the same as the color marking them. They cradled their hand to their chest and the tears spilled over. One of the other guardsmen stepped out of the flood of red and white. Pulling the shiny's attention to them, they lifted their arms in silent comfort. The shiny rushed to the other and was embraced into a tight hug. Armor creaking as the older Guard smoothed their hand into the shiny's short regulation hair.

The other GAR shiny turned to look and froze, seeing how hurt the other was. They tried to reach out to the other. Suddenly, another Guardsman surged to the front and rammed a riot shield into the shiny. This trooper a shiny themselves. The GAR shiny fell to the ground and the other GAR members stepped forward.

The Riot Shiny flinched at so many other GAR soldiers approaching. And that caused a chain reaction in the rest of the Guard. More Riot Troopers rushed out in defense of their shiny member, slamming their shield on the ground. Lining up on either side of the first Riot trooper as a show of support and comradeship.

This caused the heavy artillery Guards to follow, guarding the edges of the shield formation. Suddenly the ground rumbled and high vantage points appeared, allowing the Guard Sniper units to take aim. The rare Guard Enhanced all took positions behind the Riot Troopers with their own weapons in hand. The Guards with normal blasters each took a shoulder behind a Riot Trooper and aimed their weapons.

The massiff units all pushed the medics and soft shells behind them, aiming their blasters at those they could safely aim at. Medics had their makeshift packs at the ready for any who might get injured on their side. And soft shells aimed pistols around the Massiff Units to do the same as them.

And suddenly, everything was quiet again.

The GAR didn't know how to react to their Guard brother's sudden defensive formation. Not one Guard shook or looked hesitant to fire.

It was like time froze, as the bigger side tried to figure out what to do. Until Cody stepped forward. The Marshall Commander stepped as close to the group in red as they allowed. Freezing when one of the troopers aiming over another's shoulder took aim at him. He raised his hand to signal a halt when his own men stepped forward to defend him.

From behind the line of Riot shields came the Guard's own Marshall Commander. The scars of sith lightning scattered across the left side of the oldest Guardsman's face had Cody flinching. The eye was no where to be seen either, meaning he was blind in that eye.

Fox crossed his arms in front of his chest, feet spread to parade rest length, and tilted his head. Not a word left the Guard Commander as he stood in front of the GAR Commander. No one spoke really. One side waiting for their Commander's orders, the other too in shock to speak.

The other Commanders of the GAR stepped forward. And soon after the other leaders in the Guard did the same. One Guard had blonde hair. One had a severely damaged jaw and throat. One had stitches lining their whole body old wounds healed over. One had a missing leg, the air in its place matching the void around them. One had over regulation hair. One had a scar along their head and over an absent right eye. And One with no hair, with a massive burn scar on the left side of his face.

The GAR only knew of Thorn, the one with long hair, Stone, the one with the burn, and Thire, the one with the missing right eye and scar on the same side. The other four where unknown. Until Rex stepped forward.

"Ritz?" He asked, and his voice was almost too loud in the eery quiet of the void. The blonde Guard officer, a Captain, crossed their arms in a silent show of defiance. The other six officers all stood on either side of Fox in a show of support. Not one looked ready to back down. Neither did the rest of the Guard despite their smaller size.

"Vod'ika. Why are you all doing this?" Cody finally asked the question the rest of the GAR had been thinking.

"You abandoned me and my men. So we're just doing what's necessary to defend what we have left. Who we have left. And I'm not your Vod'ika. The only Ori'vod'e I have is Chemi and Stitches. You aren't either of them." The Guard Commander snarled and the mentioned 'Ori'vod'e' both stepped forward on either side of Fox. Chemi was the one with the mangled jaw and throat, while Stitches was the one with a stitched up appearance.

The 212th and 501st CMOs rushed forward suddenly.

"JACOB!" "STITCHES!"

Helix shouted a different name than Kix, yet it was a name the 212th recognized almost immediately. Jacob had been the second in command of the 212th medical bay near the start of the war. But once General Skywalker was made a General, he was sent back to Kamino and was never seen again.

Stitches had been the new and first CMO of the 501st's name. And the man had been sent in once again to Kamino, he was also never again seen.

Only this time he wasn't reconditioned.

Said CMO of the Guard didn't even flinch when his name was shouted, though he was secretly confused by the first name. Both blue and gold CMOs froze when the Captain, Ritz, shot forward and shielded the red CMO. A snarl of a protective riduur marking his scratched up face.

The void rumbled again and Stitches had someone peeking out from behind him. This clone was inverted to the medic. Black eyes and stitches with a white appearance. A malicious smile was marking this clones face, but it wasn't towards the Guard. No it was towards the GAR. The Guard knew who this clone was. Freakshow. The Guard CMO's darker personality.

Helix hissed at the inverted clone and the other just giggled darkly.

"You bastard! I thought you finally left him alone!" Helix roared and the inverted clone's smile faded away.

"Because I was too Independent at the time, here I remain. I'm the one who's kept him alive ever since. With some help of course." Freakshow said as he patted Ritz on the shoulder from behind Stitches. The medic didn't seem bothered by the other presence.

With Freakshow's arrival, it heralded the coming of other similar inverted clones over many other Guard clone's shoulders. And even some GAR clone shoulders as well.

One of the Kamino bound clones looked heartbroken as he stood in front. "So he got reconditioned for nothing? He had hoped it would ease his suffering." All eyes framed by gold and red looked at the man and he flinched. Helix and Freakshow both looked at him and the clone stepped forward. "Joyce, Sirs. I....I was the one who saw him go to recon. He asked me not to say anything, just in case it didn't work. He didn't want me getting hurt."

The clone, Joyce, wrapped his arms around himself in self comfort as the anger in Helix's gaze ignited towards him. Freakshow just smiled soothingly. "It worked a little. It allowed me to explain my presence and give him time to really understand how I got there. It did heal him, even if my darling other half doesn't remember." The inverted clone giggled as he laid himself across the medic's shoulders. The other clone just grumbled in annoyance. Joyce smiled sorrowfully, nodding in acceptance.

Only to be punched in the face and fall to the ground. Everyone looked at Helix as he panted. Joyce cupped his jaw and tears filled his eyes. Pale teal tears that spilled over at the rage aimed at him. "You could have saved him! Now Jacob is dead because of you! I'll never have my Vod'ika back thanks to your silence!" Helix roared and Joyce flinched with a whimper. Freakshow growled.

"It wasn't your fucking choice to make. It was Jacob's. Nothing else was working to save his psyche from shattering and causing him to go AWOL. So don't blame him for something he had no control over." Freakshow hissed as he crossed the crack and helped the Kamino Bound clone to stand. The inverted clone grabbed his wrist and dragged Joyce over the crack to the Guard side. Joyce's armor changed colors to red. Much like Freakshow's had changed to gold and blue when he stepped over to the GAR side.

Fox jerked his head towards the riot barrier and Joyce melted into the Guard ranks. Disappearing from sight. No one really argued the Guard literally stealing one of their men. If it made the Guard feel like the man was safer than so be it. "Helix." Cody mumbled and Helix sighed with golden tears in his eyes. Captain Ritz moved to stand in his original place next to the one unnamed Guard officer, while Stitches stood with Freakshow at his back. No malicious smile to creep the GAR out.

Fox cleared his throat and attention was on him. "I'm glad this has happened. Because now I can say this with full confidence. Let it be known that the Guard will no longer treat the GAR with anything but professional politeness and business. It was agreed upon by all members of the Guard. The only expectation to that had been Bonsai. Who still had a batcher outside the Guard who still contacted her." The shiny who had been comforted at the beginning of all this flinched when their name was mentioned.

The shiny, Bonsai, shook as she became the center of attention. Said shiny stopped shaking when one of the bigger enhanced, one with patchy skin and white lined hair, stepped up behind her. Making their massive presence known. The Bad Batch, also part of the GAR despite their commando and black ops status, all looked shocked to see another of Wrecker's enhancement still alive.

"To answer any questions on the enhanced, the one behind Bonsai is Caboose. One of three of the Heavy classed enhanced among the Guard. The other two are Chalk and Titan." Fox said in monotone. The named enhanced nodded once to signal name and face. "They have a similar grouping system to the GAR's Bad Batch, though they don't strictly form up in their original unit unless necessary. Chalk frequents the medical bay, while Titan acts as the heavy artillery for the crew of the Victorian. Caboose acts as a free agent among the Guard, pulling those being reconditioned or decommissioned into our ranks to keep them safe."

Fox explained and Caboose grinned. Cody mumbled to himself in awe while the other GAR Commanders just stared. The Riot Troopers and those behind them had still not eased up. Neither had the other Guardsmen despite the calm atmosphere. "What can we do to regain your trust?" A clone in Wolfpack grey asked and Chemi was the one to answer. Though his voice was hoarse thanks to the damage in that area.

"That is a question best answered by the individual you want to regain the trust of. I'd say we all have different answers to that. Me personally? There really isn't anyway but through time and effort on both sides." The clone said, he sounded almost like he was mimicking someone. Another guard near the back with the Massiff members snorted sarcastically. "Don't get too hopeful though. Not sure I wanna give my trust back after it was shattered the first time." Some members of the Guard nodded in agreement.

It grew quiet after that. Both sides at a stand still. A member of the 49th stepped forward. "Who hurt you? It was supposed to be safe! None of you should have those kinds of injuries!" He shouted and many other GAR members murmured in agreement. The nameless Captain answered. "The Senate. Coruscant. Only ones who really left us alone was the Jetii. Well except for that Vos guy. He visited with food from time to time after we pulled him from the sewers or a dumpster." The answer seemed to echo in the once again silent space. The Guard seemed to act like it was normal. Like having these injuries was a daily thing to them.

Thinking about it now, Cody felt like it probably was.

"And you are?" Wolffe asked. The Captain grinned ferally. "ARC Captain Gatz of the Coruscant Guard. If you got a fucking problem with it we can fight right here and now." The ARC replied, not an ounce of fear in his face or voice. Wolffe raised his hands in surrender. "Just wanted your name! No fighting necessary!" The Wolfpack Commander reassured. That seemed to deflate the ARC as he pouted with a whispered 'Damn it.' that only Ritz seemed to hear. The blonde Captain patting the other on the shoulder in sympathy. Stitches snorted and crossed his arms. "As much as this little reunion has been informative, I have patients I need to tend to. So how about we figure out how to get out of here?"

Fox nodded in agreement. The Guard Riot formation eased just a little, allowing the troops to shake themselves out of their stiffness and reset their bodies.

"We'll deal with those bastards later then." Bacara muttered and several other GAR members whispering a faint 'oya' amongst each other.

The vantage points all lowered and the sniper units melted into the crowd of Guardsmen. Leaving only the black crack as the single deviation to the grey void.

Not that anyone really paid it any mind. The Guard wasn't trusting of the GAR right yet, and they were willing to work to gain that trust back.

No matter how hard it was or how long it took.